62
PARTISAN REVIEW
embarrass her with my questions, my interest, or my presence. I am
happy that she is free.
I am not hiding in Wurtenburg. I am listed in the phone directory.
If
my former friends wish to locate me they can easily do so. Each
morning I go out for the paper. In the afternoon, around four, I take a
walk. Each morning, each afternoon, more or less at the same time. In
that respect I present no problem for anyone who would wish to kill
me. The man in the Porsche could give it another try.
Frequently, two or three times a week, I receive a letter from some
anonymous person who appears to hate me with a greater passion and
intensity than I have ever been able to hate anyone. Are all these letters
written by lunatics? I could, I suppose, hand them over to the police;
instead I toss them into a drawer of my desk.
Maria, my sister-in-law, calls me every three or four days. She asks
me how my work is progressing. She tries to elicit from me what I am
writing. Is it autobiographical? she asks.
Existence does not take place within the skin, I reply, quoting
Klude.
5.
Nonsense.
Only Maria is able to put me on the defensive by saying: nonsense.
It's true.
Repeat.
I am telling you the absolute truth.
A young earnest-faced woman moved into the empty apartment on the
floor above mine. I helped her carry a few heavy cartons of books to the
elevator, since the doorman was on his lunch hour. Wurtenburg is
gradually emerging from its medieval past to which we are still so
attached . .. the medieval past that is etched on so many of the faces of
the people who live here. My brother and I are no exception. I gravely
stare at my face in the mirror and see Germany's entire past.
A stranger, a young earnest-faced American, for instance, cannot
help when visiting Wurtenburg but see the world of Albrecht Durer
come to life. Durer becomes his or her point of reference, or perhaps
even guide, as he or she takes a leisurely walk down the main street past
the cathedral designed by Muse-Haft Toll, with its frescoes by Alfredo
Igloria Grobart and stained glass windows by Nacklewitz Jahn and
then past the World War I monument on the left, a bronze riderless
