contemporary abstract painting

must struggle on: strive to live and bend to toil like the rest.
About two o'clock P.M. I entered the village. At the bottom of
its one street there was a little shop with some cakes of bread in the
window. I coveted a cake of bread. With that refreshment I could
perhaps regain a degree of energy: without it, it would be difficult
to proceed. The wish to have some strength and some vigour returned to
me as soon as I was amongst my fellow-beings. I felt it would be
degrading to faint with hunger on the causeway of a hamlet. Had I
nothing about me I could offer in exchange for one of these rolls? I
had my gloves. I could hardly tell how men and women in extremities of
destitution proceeded. I did not know whether either of these articles
would be accepted: probably they would not; but I must try.
I entered the shop: a woman was there. Seeing a respectably-dressed
person, a lady as she supposed, she came forward with civility. How
could she serve me? I was seized with shame: my tongue would not utter
the request I had prepared. I dared not offer her the half-worn
gloves, the creased handkerchief: besides, I felt it would be