I'm cursed with a lack of interest in life, a lack of drive. In Balthazar, I see a perfectly dedicated human who has found himself and his place in the world.
Why didst thou choose this particular occupation? Did family troubles influence thy decision? Who could have tormented thee before? How could anyone have tormented thee? Why, despite everything, hast thou retained thy fervor and zest for life? Perhaps that's precisely why thou art so zealous and joyful?
Why art thou so fat? I can't even imagine the right answer. And I can't imagine what thou thyself wouldst answer. But I really need to know.
I need to know why I'm cursed and thou art not. Could we have been equals, grown up in the same conditions? What makes us different?
Talk to me, answer me, be not silent. Oh, Balthazar, for thee, talking to other people is like a human talking to a dog. I'm a dog because I live in a dog world; I would be un-dogged if I found myself in thy world.
Perhaps thou art so uncursed because thine occupation is frowned upon, forbidden, and entangled with secrets? Take me into thy service, preferably in a state other than dead.
Thou wilt never answer any of my questions. I can only invent answers for thee.
