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may make her unsure of herself and thereby help her to mark out a way which is less nice and make her achieve less and generally speaking lower the bar. Unless it’s already too late. Unless this niceness has already taken root within her and has taken complete control. I fear this is the case because niceness is habit-forming. Once you’ve become nice there are no limits to what you will do to continue to evince positive feedback from the world around you.  It’s a self-reinforcing spiral that never needs to stop. You can be nice as a pupil and student and later you can be nice in your professional life, in your community life, you can be a nice partner and friend and spouse, a nice parent and consumer, in fact there is nothing you can’t do in a nicer way than other people, you can be nice about getting old, you can get ill nicely, and you can die in a nice way, which no doubt I would have done if I hadn’t fallen off my bike and hit my head.  But now it’s not going to happen. I’m going to die un-nicely and I’m never going to try to achieve anything again as long as I live. I’m not going to achieve anything. I have achieved for the last time and I have been nice for the last time.
    Fortunately my son has not yet been infected with this niceness and I have some hope that he can still be saved. My absence may save him, I constantly think. Missing me may create some unease in him, a longing, an imbalance, I imagine, and this imbalance may save him from niceness. My wife could also do with being less nice. With me being away for such a long time she’ll become exhausted and may start making mistakes. Probably she’ll get tired and angry and unreasonable with the children, and she’ll sleep less and hopefully lack the usual energy which makes her nice and dependable at work and unerringly leads to her having a bad conscience and there is little that makes her so un-nice as a bad conscience. I’m going to save the whole family by staying in the forest. They think it’s a handicap living out here, but in truth it’s the salvation for us all. We’ll have a lot to thank the forest for, my family and I, should I decide to return one day.
    However, I can’t see anything that might make me leave. Up here I’m not at the mercy of other people, and other people are not at the mercy of me. Other people are protected from my sarcasm and spitefulness, and I am protected from their niceness and stupidity. To me, it’s a great arrangement.
    Moreover, I’m getting used to solitude. I’m learning to live with it. As my father did. Perhaps without knowing. He was completely alone, my father. He had my mother for a great part of his life, but was alone all the same. In the last forty years of his life he had me and my siblings, but was no less alone for that. What was in his mind when he awoke in the morning, when he went to bed or when he went skiing or photographing toilets, I have no idea. Never did have. It’s all gone now. And you can argue that it never existed because it only existed in him. Maybe there was something there and maybe not. It’s like with Schrödinger’s cat. You put a cat in a box with an atom of some radio-active material which, as it breaks down, triggers a mechanism which releases a fatal acid. But as you can’t see inside the box you won’t know whether it’s happened or not.  And therefore you have to accept that the cat is both alive and dead. My father lived in a box like that. Maybe he thought a lot and maybe a little. Maybe he felt okay and maybe not. He was both fully alive and completely dead at the same time. And now he’s just dead.
    We’re born alone and we die alone. It’s just a question of getting used to both of them. Being alone is fundamental to the whole construct. It is, so to speak, the corner stone. You can live with other people, but with generally means next to . And that’s fine. You live side by side with others and for short, happy spells you can perhaps even