One by one they are being picked off around him: in his small circle of colleagues the ratio slowly grows top-heavy, more ghosts, more each winter, and fewer living... and with each one, he thinks he feels patterns on his cortex going dark, settling to sleep forever, parts of whoever he's been losing all definition, reverting to dumb chemistry...
by Thomas Pynchon
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In the narrative, the protagonist observes the gradual loss of his colleagues, as each year the number of living companions dwindles, creating an atmosphere filled with memories of the departed. This increasing emptiness weighs heavily on him, intensifying his sense of isolation as he grapples with the absence of friends and mentors. Each loss leaves him feeling more disconnected, as if parts of his identity are fading away along with those he mourns.

The imagery evokes a deep sense of despair, suggesting that his emotional state is intertwined with the expiring lives around him. He perceives a transformation within himself, where vital aspects of his identity dissolve into the mundane, reducing his existence to mere chemical processes. This tragic reflection highlights the profound impact of loss, not just on relationships but on one’s sense of self and the essence of life.

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February 20, 2025

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