It's the middle of winter. Nico is wearing his white tuxedo. He looks good in it, he thinks. An acquaintance who encounters him on the street bewilderingly says: 'You are wearing a summery outfit! Man, you must be crazy. you are shivering from the cold .`
That it makes Nico feel good apparently doesn't matter at all. White is a colour that does not suit him. Too frivolous. He has his white tuxedo painted black. Much better this way, he thinks. The shaking continues unimpeded. No sweat.  But even that is not good at all. Nico wants to suffer.

He is very been busy with the suit. Almost as if he experiences joy from it. And that is absolutely not the intention. Horrified he thinks of joy. Only primitive souls find delight in joy.

Once he gets home, he grabs a thick ski suit and puts it on, over it he wears his winter coat. He turns the heating up high. Sweating, he sits in his most uncomfortable chair. Highly unpleasant. Nico is tired of himself, of his own obsessions. And that's good, though it could always be better.

it is evening and Nico closes the curtains. Strange to close the curtains in the evening,  it is already dark outside, so why bother? You could better close them during the day. Then it is light and it seems to be more logical to close the curtains. Unless you are someone who is fond of light.
Light or darkness, it does not matter much to Nico on the condition that his life continues to be gloomy. Leave that  to Nico. This morning he to his horror woke up cheerful. By steadily thinking about sad things he slowly got better.

He first sits down in the darkness of his living room for a while. There an unprecedented feeling of peace creeps within him. That is not what he wants at all. Peaceful emotions are unfamiliar and therefore frightening to him. With that aspect of it, he can then again have peace.
He switches the lights on. Dead furniture stares hostile at him. We have nothing to do with your life, they seem to say. We don't give a fuck whether you're sitting or lying down on us or not. The table laughs at him.

He turns off the lights again, walks to the curtains and looks out through a crack. Although it is evening, it isn't dark outside. The full moon shines bright, street lights are lit, lights shine out of the house across the street. You can not escape the light and that's the honest truth. All is futile, it's a comforting thought. Unfortunately, Nico is a declared opponent of consolation. odious weakness.