increases, the air around it has been rent, the sentence explodes, it blows the meaning apart. I hear it with a deafening roar, and I fail to understand it, I no longer even understand that it means nothing.
Lol is still far from me, rooted to the floor, still turned toward the garden, unblinking.
The nudity of Tatiana, already naked, intensifies into an overexposed image which makes it increasingly impossible to make any sense whatsoever out of it.
The void is statue. The pedestal is there: the sentence. The void is Tatiana naked beneath her dark hair, the fact. It is transformed, poured out lavishly, the fact no longer contains the fact, Tatiana emerges from herself, spills through the open windows out over the town, the roads, mire, liquid, tide of nudity. Here she is, Tatiana Karl, suddenly naked beneath her hair, between Lol Stein and me. The sentence has just faded away, I can no longer hear any sound, only silence, the sentence is dead at Lol's feet, Tatiana is back in her place. I reach out and touch, like a blind man I touch and fail to recognize anything I have already touched. Lol is waiting for me to recognize something, not that I be attuned to her vision but that I no longer be afraid of Tatiana. I am no longer afraid. There are two of us, now, beholding Tatiana naked beneath her dark hair. Blindly, I say:
"An extraordinary lay, Tatiana."
There was a movement of her head. Lol's tone is one I have never heard from her before, shrill and plaintive. The wild animal removed from its forest home sleeps, dreams of the equator of its birth, trembles in its sleep, its dream of sunlight, weeps.
"The best, the best one of them all, right?"
I say:
"The best."
I go to Lol Stein. I kiss her, lick her, breathe in the odor that is Lol, kiss her teeth. She does not move. She has grown beautiful. She says:
"What an amazing coincidence."
I do not reply. Again I leave her, standing there far from me, in the middle of the living room. She does not even seem to realize that I have moved away from her. Again I say:
"I'm going to leave Tatiana Karl."
She sinks to the floor without a word, and assumes a posture of infinite supplication.
"Please, I beg of you, implore you, don't leave her!"
I rush back over to her, lift her to her feet. Anyone else might have been fooled completely. There was not the slightest trace of pain on her face, which was beaming with confidence.
"What?"
"Please, I beg of you."
"Tell me why."
She says:
"I don't want you to."
We are locked in together somewhere. Every echo dies. I am beginning to understand, by slow degrees, inchingly slow. I see walls, smooth, offering nothing to grasp, they were not there a short while before, they have just risen around us. If someone offered to save me, I would not even know what he was talking about. My ignorance itself is locked in. Lol is standing before me, again she is begging, suddenly I am weary of translating what she is saying.
"I won't leave Tatiana Karl."
"Good. You're supposed to see her again."
"Next Tuesday."
The violin stops. It withdraws, leaving behind it open craters of immediate memory. I am frightened, appalled by all other people but Lol.
"And you? When will I see you?"
She tells me Wednesday, sets a time and place.
I don't return home. Nothing is open in town. So I walk to the Beugners' house and go in by the garden gate. There is a light in Tatiana's window. I knock on the window. She is used to my knock. She dresses quickly. By now it's three in the morning. She is at great pains not to make any noise, although I am certain Peter Beugner knows exactly what is going on. But she's the one who insists on acting as though our affair were some great secret. She thinks that in South Tahla she passes for a dutiful and faithful wife. She intends to keep her reputation intact.
"But what about Tuesday?" she asks.
"Tuesday too."
I parked the car a fair distance from the gate. We drive past the Beugners' house with our lights out,
Lol is still far from me, rooted to the floor, still turned toward the garden, unblinking.
The nudity of Tatiana, already naked, intensifies into an overexposed image which makes it increasingly impossible to make any sense whatsoever out of it.
The void is statue. The pedestal is there: the sentence. The void is Tatiana naked beneath her dark hair, the fact. It is transformed, poured out lavishly, the fact no longer contains the fact, Tatiana emerges from herself, spills through the open windows out over the town, the roads, mire, liquid, tide of nudity. Here she is, Tatiana Karl, suddenly naked beneath her hair, between Lol Stein and me. The sentence has just faded away, I can no longer hear any sound, only silence, the sentence is dead at Lol's feet, Tatiana is back in her place. I reach out and touch, like a blind man I touch and fail to recognize anything I have already touched. Lol is waiting for me to recognize something, not that I be attuned to her vision but that I no longer be afraid of Tatiana. I am no longer afraid. There are two of us, now, beholding Tatiana naked beneath her dark hair. Blindly, I say:
"An extraordinary lay, Tatiana."
There was a movement of her head. Lol's tone is one I have never heard from her before, shrill and plaintive. The wild animal removed from its forest home sleeps, dreams of the equator of its birth, trembles in its sleep, its dream of sunlight, weeps.
"The best, the best one of them all, right?"
I say:
"The best."
I go to Lol Stein. I kiss her, lick her, breathe in the odor that is Lol, kiss her teeth. She does not move. She has grown beautiful. She says:
"What an amazing coincidence."
I do not reply. Again I leave her, standing there far from me, in the middle of the living room. She does not even seem to realize that I have moved away from her. Again I say:
"I'm going to leave Tatiana Karl."
She sinks to the floor without a word, and assumes a posture of infinite supplication.
"Please, I beg of you, implore you, don't leave her!"
I rush back over to her, lift her to her feet. Anyone else might have been fooled completely. There was not the slightest trace of pain on her face, which was beaming with confidence.
"What?"
"Please, I beg of you."
"Tell me why."
She says:
"I don't want you to."
We are locked in together somewhere. Every echo dies. I am beginning to understand, by slow degrees, inchingly slow. I see walls, smooth, offering nothing to grasp, they were not there a short while before, they have just risen around us. If someone offered to save me, I would not even know what he was talking about. My ignorance itself is locked in. Lol is standing before me, again she is begging, suddenly I am weary of translating what she is saying.
"I won't leave Tatiana Karl."
"Good. You're supposed to see her again."
"Next Tuesday."
The violin stops. It withdraws, leaving behind it open craters of immediate memory. I am frightened, appalled by all other people but Lol.
"And you? When will I see you?"
She tells me Wednesday, sets a time and place.
I don't return home. Nothing is open in town. So I walk to the Beugners' house and go in by the garden gate. There is a light in Tatiana's window. I knock on the window. She is used to my knock. She dresses quickly. By now it's three in the morning. She is at great pains not to make any noise, although I am certain Peter Beugner knows exactly what is going on. But she's the one who insists on acting as though our affair were some great secret. She thinks that in South Tahla she passes for a dutiful and faithful wife. She intends to keep her reputation intact.
"But what about Tuesday?" she asks.
"Tuesday too."
I parked the car a fair distance from the gate. We drive past the Beugners' house with our lights out,
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