I finished 1984 today. Felt a sudden impulse to sit around Berzcy Park, the one with the weird dog fountain. I sat amongst cast-iron statues of dogs and a couple of cats, while reading about a man’s face being strapped to a rat-cage contraption.
He was right. The ending gets a lot more depressing than you can expect. It was difficult for me to finish Part III. There were a lot of themes that really put into focus the emotions I was personally struggling with: acceptance of the inevitable… anxiety over an uncertain future and, above all, ambiguous feelings haunted by memories of a former time. Reaching the last page, I couldn’t help but feel a larger sense of cessation.
I guess this is goodbye.