Konrad’s memoirs, ch. 01
I cannot really call this a chronology of my life as it is not detailed enough to deserve that title. Rather, these are memorable moments, plucked out of rich history of a man, who now frail and old, can barely see the scribbles written by a liver spotted hand, trembling in disease that will be the end of me very soon, I fear. My wife Sophia, another cause of distress throughout my long life is kind enough to leave the house almost every afternoon, visiting friends and a few family members who have not moved away, allowing me blissful peace and quiet to save the last few memoirs, which are rapidly escaping my rotting brain, one by one erasing the names from well known faces, which creep inside my head each day. We are rapidly …