Black Proteus (ii)

“This condition of mine about memories I’ve never been able to understand, this violent drifting that leaps on me once in a while, not always, just sometimes, at this very moment, like then, seeking an explanation, nonsense, why explaining the inexplicable. I was never any good at that. Already at school, grand words, a culture and an education in me growing like a cancer, as I say at school wearing a pink smock with girlish manners this irrepressible laughing at the world started, incomprehensible, impossible to decipher as I relished on my idiocy, words I read without fully understanding them, and books, ah yes, books I hated the most. No books at home, fortunately, I think I’d have burned the house to ashes if I’d caught a glimpse of that ghastly stuff. Books fix everything, words, images, why fixing things I wondered then, under my lovely smock, I guess I’d rather invent my own memories, impaired as I am to properly remember, yes, I’d rather remember things my own way, no device, no, nothing like a book or a memoir or a camera, all them devices what for, let’s live upon a global invention, folks, every second, every minute, every day. But as I say at school I did badly because of this condition of mine, dragging all kinds of burdens and soon the wrinkles between my eyebrows, at not understanding, not even my name, least of all my name, drowning in a sea of words like seaweed, ferns or green living creatures struggling to be heard amid the desks, and then it was me, it was all about me sitting in a shabby desk with a broken pencil and a ruffled mop of hair. The teacher comes and I stare at him with eyes wide open, better to see, seeing nothing but a white void of words and letters dancing in the air, yes the teacher comes and asks me the lesson, no answer, just eyes drowned in ignorance, glad, muddy and murky before mumbling some incoherent explanation, the teacher staring at me, arms folded in disdain at my ignorance, arms smiling and grinning, soon they’ll start dancing too if nobody prevents it. Hence I avert my eyes and cover my ears with my hands. Bursting in laughs my classmates join the teacher, so funny, me, an oddity displaced in a weird world, it’s a wonderfoul weird world after all. Ah well, this has nothing to do with my tale about that evening with my father, I should say I’m fed up with that story, maybe I shouldn’t finish it. No, no, I’ve set my mind to carry on, I think I will, just for a while, just for the sake of finishing something though in the most uncanny way.”


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