When I was little there was a widow who lived in one of those houses that wasn’t a house any more, it had collapsed and lay along the path that went up to the mountains — do you remember her? I remember her perfectly, she was so hideously ugly. We were afraid of her but I understand now that she was nice and just old, not ugly, perhaps she had simply lived too long — that is exactly what I look like now when I look in the mirror, like that old widow. She must have been very poor. I don’t think she had children and she was probably already dead without really knowing.
The eyes that I see — I’m talking about my eyes now, not the old widow’s — are so horrible. They stare back at me with hatred. I don’t want those eyes, they’re not mine, and my tongue — do you want to see my tongue? — no, you don’t, it has a strange furry coating and it feels as if I have an animal in my mouth and that’s because you talk too much. Can’t you just be quiet, if not for my sake then for someone else’s? My father is dead; you can’t do anything more to him. I loved my father and I loved you too but I want you to be quiet. I know it’s hard for you and you are afraid — if anyone can understand that it’s me, I don’t even think my father really understood it. If you don’t stop talking I’m going to claw out your eyes. Watch out for my thumbnails, I mean it.
You’re always lying. We’ll be there soon, soon we’ll exist again, oh my God, when will that be? Tell me! No, don’t say anything, I don’t want to know, it doesn’t matter anyway since it isn’t true what you say. I am a prisoner of my invisibility, not just because I’m on the run but because you are keeping me prisoner, you keep saying we’ll be there soon but you have become a prison guard. Do you want to know what I think? Sometimes I think I’ll just disappear, that I’m going to let myself freeze to death just so I won’t hear your lies any more. I don’t mean to hurt you, I’m telling you this because I love you and because you can’t manage to formulate a single sensible thought any more. Can you understand that I’m not being mean, can you understand that? You will if you listen to me, not the words but the meaning. Are you listening to me or my words? Can you see that I’m standing here or have I become invisible for you too? And what’s the point in that case?
