Zurich, May 21, 1897

Outside the sun shines seductively and I am free & have nothing to do, and yet nothing draws me from my room to the outdoors. I feel as though the dear sun is smiling down on everyone, but not on me--and still I know that that's not true--I seek the solitude only to complain then silently about it. And I could not say why I feel so strange; after all I am the same odd fellow as before.