What will any of it be worth? Tomorrow I sit before three examiners, who for two hours will ask me questions about an examination I wrote over the course of nineteen days, after a period of studying for more than nine months, for a project first conceived around four years ago. And once this exam is over I will know if I have passed or failed, achieved a kind of legitimacy that I have been so anxious to receive. To the expense of my real life. If I pass, my relationship to the program I am in will drastically change; I will be allowed to begin my project, to start my translation, to live more humanely, both to slow down and to begin in earnest. It will be a huge relief.

But there’s something that makes me even more anxious, and to that question tomorrow I am not promised any answers.

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