front of their eyes was enough to freeze my blood, B-C would insist on repeating, ‘That’s how it is, out of stubbornness.’
On top of this, the owner of the studio was always insisting that I model: ‘Of course, you won’t have to use the stool. We’ll arrange a sofa for you.’
zarf
(envelope): He worked at the post-office for years. For years he licked and sealed the envelopes that elegant ladies didn’t want to touch and hurried gentlemen didn’t deign to close. He believed that envelopes were essential not because of the addresses they bore but because they concealed what had been written. What made a letter a letter was the fact of its being closed, of being hidden from eyes. On the day he committed suicide he left behind an envelope with its flap open. He put his eyes into it. ‘He went with his eyes open,’ cried those who loved him. They licked the envelope and sealed it in order that he might rest in peace.
‘Don’t move!’ said the man again. Though there was no need for him to say this. I wasn’t moving.
This kind of thing happens to me all the time. Even if I tend to do the right thing in the right place, when I look, everything I touch comes off in my hands; my feet have resisted me, insisting ‘I won’t come with you, I won’t carry you’; my ankles are angrily swollen, my thighs are chapped; my belly has folded itself into layers; I’ve blown my top; my blood-pressure has jumped; my ears are not listening to what I say; my mouth couldn’t hold its tongue again; my back is covered in sweat; my legs, seeing their own bulging veins, have given themselves a diagnosis of gangrene and then turned purple in their distress; my skin has discovered new food allergies and is swelling all over; my eyes are watering for no reason…before I know it I’m all over the place. I’d bend over and pick up my pieces one by one, but what I’ve lost is always more than I’ve gathered. No matter how careful I am, I always leave something behind. Something is always left half-done, unfinished, incomplete.
My dreams are made of sticks and stones. One flick is enough for them to be level with the floor. ‘An earthquake’ I’d explain to those around me, ‘a terrible earthquake.’ It helped them to believe that the ground must have shaken. Otherwise the reason for this terrifying shaking was nothing other than my huge body. Indeed that’s why all of these things always happened to me. It’s all because of my huge body that all my life I’ve tried to walk as if I’m in a crystal shop, in the best of circumstances knocking over a few shelves and smashing their contents to bits.
zayiçe
(astrology): Looking at the state of the sky in order to see fortunes on earth is called astrology. Astrology is the name given to the charts useful for seeing where the lively stars will be at any given time.
It was clear that the man had good intentions, but also that he was old and inept. As he was struggling I was looking at the top floor of the Hayalifener Apartments. B-C was above, and I was below.
I’m down below because the thread that’s been caught has neither beginning nor end; it grew longer when it was pulled, like a story that wore out the listener with its endlessness. I’m down below because I can’t fit through doors when one wing is closed. I was stuck; if only I could take off my sweater and save my body. But I can’t move because of the man. At one point I considered ringing the bell to call B-C for help. But who wants their lover to see them caught in the front door by the thread of her sweater?
Indeed, I still wasn’t used to B-C’s presence. B-C wasn’t the problem; I just couldn’t believe I had a lover. Sure, when you’re as fat as I am you resign yourself to certain things. That is, the rule that ‘A jug of foresight has fewer calories than a sip of disaster’ applied here. In short, rather than nursing unrealistic fantasies and suffering later, I had decided from the start that
On top of this, the owner of the studio was always insisting that I model: ‘Of course, you won’t have to use the stool. We’ll arrange a sofa for you.’
zarf
(envelope): He worked at the post-office for years. For years he licked and sealed the envelopes that elegant ladies didn’t want to touch and hurried gentlemen didn’t deign to close. He believed that envelopes were essential not because of the addresses they bore but because they concealed what had been written. What made a letter a letter was the fact of its being closed, of being hidden from eyes. On the day he committed suicide he left behind an envelope with its flap open. He put his eyes into it. ‘He went with his eyes open,’ cried those who loved him. They licked the envelope and sealed it in order that he might rest in peace.
‘Don’t move!’ said the man again. Though there was no need for him to say this. I wasn’t moving.
This kind of thing happens to me all the time. Even if I tend to do the right thing in the right place, when I look, everything I touch comes off in my hands; my feet have resisted me, insisting ‘I won’t come with you, I won’t carry you’; my ankles are angrily swollen, my thighs are chapped; my belly has folded itself into layers; I’ve blown my top; my blood-pressure has jumped; my ears are not listening to what I say; my mouth couldn’t hold its tongue again; my back is covered in sweat; my legs, seeing their own bulging veins, have given themselves a diagnosis of gangrene and then turned purple in their distress; my skin has discovered new food allergies and is swelling all over; my eyes are watering for no reason…before I know it I’m all over the place. I’d bend over and pick up my pieces one by one, but what I’ve lost is always more than I’ve gathered. No matter how careful I am, I always leave something behind. Something is always left half-done, unfinished, incomplete.
My dreams are made of sticks and stones. One flick is enough for them to be level with the floor. ‘An earthquake’ I’d explain to those around me, ‘a terrible earthquake.’ It helped them to believe that the ground must have shaken. Otherwise the reason for this terrifying shaking was nothing other than my huge body. Indeed that’s why all of these things always happened to me. It’s all because of my huge body that all my life I’ve tried to walk as if I’m in a crystal shop, in the best of circumstances knocking over a few shelves and smashing their contents to bits.
zayiçe
(astrology): Looking at the state of the sky in order to see fortunes on earth is called astrology. Astrology is the name given to the charts useful for seeing where the lively stars will be at any given time.
It was clear that the man had good intentions, but also that he was old and inept. As he was struggling I was looking at the top floor of the Hayalifener Apartments. B-C was above, and I was below.
I’m down below because the thread that’s been caught has neither beginning nor end; it grew longer when it was pulled, like a story that wore out the listener with its endlessness. I’m down below because I can’t fit through doors when one wing is closed. I was stuck; if only I could take off my sweater and save my body. But I can’t move because of the man. At one point I considered ringing the bell to call B-C for help. But who wants their lover to see them caught in the front door by the thread of her sweater?
Indeed, I still wasn’t used to B-C’s presence. B-C wasn’t the problem; I just couldn’t believe I had a lover. Sure, when you’re as fat as I am you resign yourself to certain things. That is, the rule that ‘A jug of foresight has fewer calories than a sip of disaster’ applied here. In short, rather than nursing unrealistic fantasies and suffering later, I had decided from the start that
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