le touriste
Text for book version
1.
I have lived like this and continue to do so. Preferring small doses of pain over pleasure. Just for the sake of feeling some kind of sensation. I don.t know how I came to be living in this place. It.s certainly not what I imagined in my fantasies. But time passes at an agreeable pace here, which I can control easily enough. And when the pleasure of that control becomes monotonous it is some consolation to allow the orange glow of my cigarette to quietly burn into my fingertips, leaving the skin toughened and itching. Or to brush my hand through the leaves of a stinging nettle as I walk along the river. Or to wait patiently for a mosquito to land on my upper lip (for example), insert its small needle and draw blood until the irritation becomes unbearable. Then I send it away with a small gesture.
From my window I can watch the trees with their branches dancing in the breeze. They are still quite empty and transparent against the spring sky, with leaves the size of a large coin, no bigger. The wind blows and the branches dance. The closeness of yesterday is still with me. The third time we met, exchanged a polite conversation at the photocopy machine, I experienced a shortage of breath. In a small way you noticed but responded as if everything was perfectly normal, as it should be. Perhaps that is your nature. Not to doubt reality, to support it unquestioningly.
I on the other hand resent its perfection, the way it follows its own course relentlessly, with no concern for the casual tourist.
2.
Those who are close to me saw it as inevitable, like the gradual disintegration of a political dictatorship.maybe it.s a benefit of growing old, that one loses the energy or desire to keep everything in its place. Hair begins to grow out of ones ears and then its clear that some concessions will need to be made in order to maintain a general forward motion. People are surprisingly forgiving about imperfections, I realised. It surprised me at first but it makes sense. Never the less I still try to keep guard as much as possible.
3.
Ambition is never enough it seems. For sure I have as much as the next person. I take pride in my profession but somehow I have not excelled. So as time moves on I have come to terms with shortcomings and learned to enjoy some of life.s simple pleasures. On Sundays I like to take it easy. Cook a nice dinner, drink a good bottle of wine and listen to Shirley Bassey records. If things work out it can be very comforting.
But this isn.t always the case. The apartments are close together here, perhaps too close. I can quite easily see into the home of the neighbours across the road. And reflected in their windows the apartment of my neighbour to the left. My neighbour to the left, I have never really met but I have a sense that he is equally ambitious as me, if not more. Today for example.all the elements are in place, a gentle downpour, a pleasant sense of fatigue, an opportunity to reflect, in these conditions I am at my best. My neighbour is also, but expresses it differently. He fills my front room with the sounds of home improvements. First the power drill, then the jigsaw and the router. A new set of shelves, a kitchen counter. I don.t have to see it to imagine the excellence of his new installation.
4.
The heat in this region can be incredible. When the rain stops I will take a walk, already it.s letting up, steam is rising from my small garden in the backyard. There are three roses there. Dark red and fleshy. I smell them every morning while I drink my coffee and again as the light falls when I come home from work.
5.
I have conducted many experiments regarding the slowing down of time. It is the luxury of having quite a lot of it. With the right lighting and with certain piano sonatas played softly, the atmosphere can appear to hang in a way that is almost physical. The cat watches me move quietly through the apartment, a small cigar clenched between my teeth, shifting things gently and gazing for long moments at a patch of light cast into the passage or a page of newspaper blowing in the breeze. These siances can go on for an hour or two. Now and then I am moved to make a small sigh.
Sometimes I pass by the telephone and think to call you, I have your number now. Obtained through a risky piece of espionage. But the right pretext hasn.t yet been invented.
6.
Experience has shown me that my projects in time retardation are best carried out at home. The river banks have some perfect spots for it, but loneliness is rife here in the inner city. Too often I have gone there on some sweaty late afternoon to find a quiet spot in the shade with the cool air coming off the water and my reveries have been mistaken for gay-cruising. Being of liberal sentiment I am almost apologetic in my dismissal of these friendly overtures. In moments like this even the finest Cuban cigar tastes bitter and soiled as a sense of wretchedness consumes my enterprise and I return home with pity for myself and humanity in general.
7.
Its premature perhaps, but I have already imagined how it would be the first time we made love. It was a momentary lapse for which I later reproached myself. It.s better after all not to mix fantasy with the facts. Who knows, we may never really get to know each other. I am realistic.
Besides that I am not desperate, let me assure you. The last time I slept with someone was not so long ago in fact. It was with someone I have known a while and mostly despised. I am sure that feeling was a mutual one, clothed always in urbane gestures and light-hearted attempts to outdo the other. If you have never had this experience it may be interesting to note here, there is a peculiar vitality to such carnal events where aggression is laid bare of all sophistications. The next day I left messages to say I hoped our professional relationship would not be compromised. We laughed it off and now avoid each other.
8.
Partly to fuel my investigations into the fourth dimension and partly to understand better my own numbness, I recently sought an interview with a clairvoyant. I was on a brief visit to my hometown, an occasion which invariably brings on morbid introspections. Amongst other interesting details she told me that at an early age I had encountered some kind of psychic shock. Not exactly abuse, she said, but an inner conflict which had resulted in my taking refuge somewhere other than the present.
Later I wondered if this had anything to do with my decisions to always live in foreign places. For the last fourteen years I have lived in countries where my knowledge of the local culture and language is limited to the most basic forms of exchange. The decision has in some ways been a liberation, I can.t tell you how wonderful it is to be screened from many of the banalities of human discourse and also to partially lose the fear of being understood. There is something satisfying in the crudity.
In my research I have also found it said by people who come from traumatic circumstances, that they prefer finally not to look at the world too closely because it triggers too easily painful things from their inner world. So the choice is taken to live in a delicate oblivion.
9.
I give up wondering how things will work out. When I look at my palm I see a deep furrow crossing my lifeline near the middle, and then the lifeline continues stronger than ever. Whatever happens, I seem to survive. Perhaps that should give me the freedom to push the boundaries of survival a little more. I once held the hand of a beautiful young woman from the tropics. We were at the swimming pool together and lying in the sun. We both noticed that her lifeline was broken in several places and then stopped completely after not very long. She said there was a history of heart problems in her family and she knew she probably wouldn.t live very long. She said it in a matter of fact way which was very touching.
10.
Some cars pass by in the street. After the rain the sound of their tyres in the wet has a peaceful affect. I have a moment of inspiration to leave the house and find a restaurant for dinner. Perhaps sushi would be nice, with a cold beer. Take a brisk walk along the river and come out in a new part of town which I didn.t explore before. The light is dying now and the locals are coming out to meet and promenade in small groups.
Text for book version
1.
I have lived like this and continue to do so. Preferring small doses of pain over pleasure. Just for the sake of feeling some kind of sensation. I don.t know how I came to be living in this place. It.s certainly not what I imagined in my fantasies. But time passes at an agreeable pace here, which I can control easily enough. And when the pleasure of that control becomes monotonous it is some consolation to allow the orange glow of my cigarette to quietly burn into my fingertips, leaving the skin toughened and itching. Or to brush my hand through the leaves of a stinging nettle as I walk along the river. Or to wait patiently for a mosquito to land on my upper lip (for example), insert its small needle and draw blood until the irritation becomes unbearable. Then I send it away with a small gesture.
From my window I can watch the trees with their branches dancing in the breeze. They are still quite empty and transparent against the spring sky, with leaves the size of a large coin, no bigger. The wind blows and the branches dance. The closeness of yesterday is still with me. The third time we met, exchanged a polite conversation at the photocopy machine, I experienced a shortage of breath. In a small way you noticed but responded as if everything was perfectly normal, as it should be. Perhaps that is your nature. Not to doubt reality, to support it unquestioningly.
I on the other hand resent its perfection, the way it follows its own course relentlessly, with no concern for the casual tourist.
2.
Those who are close to me saw it as inevitable, like the gradual disintegration of a political dictatorship.maybe it.s a benefit of growing old, that one loses the energy or desire to keep everything in its place. Hair begins to grow out of ones ears and then its clear that some concessions will need to be made in order to maintain a general forward motion. People are surprisingly forgiving about imperfections, I realised. It surprised me at first but it makes sense. Never the less I still try to keep guard as much as possible.
3.
Ambition is never enough it seems. For sure I have as much as the next person. I take pride in my profession but somehow I have not excelled. So as time moves on I have come to terms with shortcomings and learned to enjoy some of life.s simple pleasures. On Sundays I like to take it easy. Cook a nice dinner, drink a good bottle of wine and listen to Shirley Bassey records. If things work out it can be very comforting.
But this isn.t always the case. The apartments are close together here, perhaps too close. I can quite easily see into the home of the neighbours across the road. And reflected in their windows the apartment of my neighbour to the left. My neighbour to the left, I have never really met but I have a sense that he is equally ambitious as me, if not more. Today for example.all the elements are in place, a gentle downpour, a pleasant sense of fatigue, an opportunity to reflect, in these conditions I am at my best. My neighbour is also, but expresses it differently. He fills my front room with the sounds of home improvements. First the power drill, then the jigsaw and the router. A new set of shelves, a kitchen counter. I don.t have to see it to imagine the excellence of his new installation.
4.
The heat in this region can be incredible. When the rain stops I will take a walk, already it.s letting up, steam is rising from my small garden in the backyard. There are three roses there. Dark red and fleshy. I smell them every morning while I drink my coffee and again as the light falls when I come home from work.
5.
I have conducted many experiments regarding the slowing down of time. It is the luxury of having quite a lot of it. With the right lighting and with certain piano sonatas played softly, the atmosphere can appear to hang in a way that is almost physical. The cat watches me move quietly through the apartment, a small cigar clenched between my teeth, shifting things gently and gazing for long moments at a patch of light cast into the passage or a page of newspaper blowing in the breeze. These siances can go on for an hour or two. Now and then I am moved to make a small sigh.
Sometimes I pass by the telephone and think to call you, I have your number now. Obtained through a risky piece of espionage. But the right pretext hasn.t yet been invented.
6.
Experience has shown me that my projects in time retardation are best carried out at home. The river banks have some perfect spots for it, but loneliness is rife here in the inner city. Too often I have gone there on some sweaty late afternoon to find a quiet spot in the shade with the cool air coming off the water and my reveries have been mistaken for gay-cruising. Being of liberal sentiment I am almost apologetic in my dismissal of these friendly overtures. In moments like this even the finest Cuban cigar tastes bitter and soiled as a sense of wretchedness consumes my enterprise and I return home with pity for myself and humanity in general.
7.
Its premature perhaps, but I have already imagined how it would be the first time we made love. It was a momentary lapse for which I later reproached myself. It.s better after all not to mix fantasy with the facts. Who knows, we may never really get to know each other. I am realistic.
Besides that I am not desperate, let me assure you. The last time I slept with someone was not so long ago in fact. It was with someone I have known a while and mostly despised. I am sure that feeling was a mutual one, clothed always in urbane gestures and light-hearted attempts to outdo the other. If you have never had this experience it may be interesting to note here, there is a peculiar vitality to such carnal events where aggression is laid bare of all sophistications. The next day I left messages to say I hoped our professional relationship would not be compromised. We laughed it off and now avoid each other.
8.
Partly to fuel my investigations into the fourth dimension and partly to understand better my own numbness, I recently sought an interview with a clairvoyant. I was on a brief visit to my hometown, an occasion which invariably brings on morbid introspections. Amongst other interesting details she told me that at an early age I had encountered some kind of psychic shock. Not exactly abuse, she said, but an inner conflict which had resulted in my taking refuge somewhere other than the present.
Later I wondered if this had anything to do with my decisions to always live in foreign places. For the last fourteen years I have lived in countries where my knowledge of the local culture and language is limited to the most basic forms of exchange. The decision has in some ways been a liberation, I can.t tell you how wonderful it is to be screened from many of the banalities of human discourse and also to partially lose the fear of being understood. There is something satisfying in the crudity.
In my research I have also found it said by people who come from traumatic circumstances, that they prefer finally not to look at the world too closely because it triggers too easily painful things from their inner world. So the choice is taken to live in a delicate oblivion.
9.
I give up wondering how things will work out. When I look at my palm I see a deep furrow crossing my lifeline near the middle, and then the lifeline continues stronger than ever. Whatever happens, I seem to survive. Perhaps that should give me the freedom to push the boundaries of survival a little more. I once held the hand of a beautiful young woman from the tropics. We were at the swimming pool together and lying in the sun. We both noticed that her lifeline was broken in several places and then stopped completely after not very long. She said there was a history of heart problems in her family and she knew she probably wouldn.t live very long. She said it in a matter of fact way which was very touching.
10.
Some cars pass by in the street. After the rain the sound of their tyres in the wet has a peaceful affect. I have a moment of inspiration to leave the house and find a restaurant for dinner. Perhaps sushi would be nice, with a cold beer. Take a brisk walk along the river and come out in a new part of town which I didn.t explore before. The light is dying now and the locals are coming out to meet and promenade in small groups.
