"[...] when you live, nothing happens. The scenery change, people come and go, that's all. "Ever is earlier. The days are added to days without rhyme or are in an interminable, monotonous addition. from time to time, we obtain a partial result, one says: I travel three years ago, three years I'm in Bouville. there is no end: we never give up once and a woman , a friend, to a city. and also everything seems to be: Shanghai, Moscow, Algiers, after fifteen days are alike. At times, rarely, takes stock, one cautions that is attached to a woman who has gotten into a dirty history. Hard as lightning. After that, the parade starts again, continues the amount of hours and days. Monday, Tuesday Wednesday. April, May, June. 1924, 1925, 1926.
This is living. But to have life, everything changes, except that is a change that no one notices, the proof is that we talk about true stories. As if there could be true stories, the events occurring in one direction, and we count backwards. Apparently it starts at the beginning: "It was a beautiful night autumn of 1922. I worked with a notary MAROMME. "And in fact been started by the end. The end is there, invisible and present, is what gives those few words the pomp and value of a start." I was walking, had left the town without realizing it, I thought of my financial difficulties. "This phrase, taken simply for what it is, to say the guy was absorbed, morose, a thousand leagues from an adventure, with precisely that kind of humor in that one events will pass without seeing them. But there is a view that transforms everything. For us the guy is already the hero of the story. His taciturnity, his financial difficulties are more precious than ours: they are golden by the light of future passions. And the story continues in reverse: instants have stopped piling haphazard over each other, the end of history attracts, traps them, and in turn each of them attracts the moment that precedes it. "It was night, the street was empty." Carelessly dropped the phrase seems redundant, but we will not cheat and put to one side, is data whose value will understand later. And we feel that the hero has lived all the details of that night as advertisements, and promises, and who lived only promises, blind and deaf to everything but announce adventure. We forget that the future was not yet there, the guy walked in one night without omen, he offered monotonous riches in disarray, he chose not. 
I wanted the moments of my life happened and ordered as a life remembered. You might as well want to grab the tail while. [...]"
I wanted the moments of my life happened and ordered as a life remembered. You might as well want to grab the tail while. [...]" 
fragment
Nausea, Jean Paul Sartre.
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lost ... 
