Heartbroken, grief-stricken, all very Germanic and proper, sudden looming darkness, Grundthema, Urworte.

"The doctor who had been summoned to help the baroness in her confinement declared that the critical moment had not arrived, and proposed to the baron that they play a game of cards in the adjoining room in the meantime. After a while the doleful cry of the baroness reached the ears of the men. 'Ah, mon Dieu, que je souffre!' The husband jumped up, but the physician stopped him saying, 'That's nothing; let us play on.' A little while later the woman in labor-pains was heard again: 'My God, my God, what pains!' 'Don't you want to go in, Doctor?' asked the baron. 'By no means, it is not yet time,' answered the doctor. At last there rang from the adjacent room the unmistakeable cry, 'A-a-a-ai-e-e-e-e-e-e-E-E-E!' The physician then threw down the cards and said, 'Now it's time'."

That Freud, quite the wag.

Nervously facing open time, thinking about the logic of the gaze, game theory, etc., etc. Wondering how formalism has been kept in a corner so long.