My own life, the life of the one in flesh and blood beyond the window, appeared to me suddenly indifferent and insignificant as the travels through unknown cities of the me in the photograph appeared absurd to the live persons on the other side of the glass.
In the same way in which the photograph of me went from place to place contemplating ever new perspectives through dirty and dusty windowpanes, I too from beyond the glass led my unchanging character here and there, forever looking at new things and forever not understanding anything about them. The fact that I moved, that I was alive, could only be by chance, a chance that had no meaning, because just as I existed on this side of the window, I could exist on the other side, with the same pale face, the same eyes, the same dull hair, that converged in the mirror as a bizarre and quick figure beyond understanding.
Max Blecher
tr. Jeanie Han
tr. Jeanie Han
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ah you are posting Blecher!!! :-) and this is indeed one of the most famous paragraphs of his, thank you for reminding me...
ReplyDeleteA fine adventure. Thank you.
ReplyDelete