...it wasn’t only these things here and now that were shedding all their meaning, but also the existence that was behind and above and over there, and everything that was elsewhere and beyond and everywhere. The universe was squeezed like a lemon, and no longer seemed to him to be anything other than a despicable, unattractive piece of peel, like an infinitely thin skin to which he couldn’t (didn’t want to, or didn’t know how to) adhere.
At the same time as the world, he himself lost all value and meaning. He was dissolving, becoming obliterated, being annulled. He could no longer distinguish himself from the uniform fog that was absorbing everything...
Queneau, The Bark Tree, 1933, p134