And of course I’m speaking to myself in this diary, but not to myself alone, for it isn’t a diary in the strict sense of the word, but only in its appearance, and in the conventions that belong to it as a genre, so that whatever I write here is not as uncontrived as one might expect, but has an artifice that isn’t to be found in my everyday speech, and thus is intended less as a private expression than as an expression made in private, for public comprehension.