544
PARTISAN REVIEW
like an adventure. I don't curse my feet for having swerved from an
invisible path; they'll put me back on the right course. A few more
days, a few more years, and I'll stray into death's realm.
If
it's true
that God can struggle to reach Himself on ly through us, then let
Him struggle on undisturbed in me.
But one day I'll be discharged even from here; I will be given
an encouraging final report, and then will have only one representa–
tive of officialdom to deal with: the mailman who will deliver my
monthly pension.
If
I decide to write nothing but postcards, I won't
have a care in the world; I can go mushrooming in the woods with a
knapsack on my back. True, I will have a terrified, imploring
expression on my face if one morning, in my shabby freedom, I
chance
to
take a rest in the wicker chair of a sidewalk cafe and find
myself next to grumblin g, retired revolutionaries. Sometimes the
phone will ring; on the day of their scheduled visit my children will
inform me that they cannot come until next week. When this hap–
pens, my wife and I will nibble the wild strawberries I'll have picked
for our grandchildren at the foot of the fir tree. I will try to make fun
of myoId age before others do, though I would like them to sit at my
table, and will be happy if they call me over and at least one of them
pretends to be listening to my hoary boasts.
During the day we fill the workshops; we may cut up pieces of
leather, paste paper bags, knot doormats, transplant seedlings, mow
the grass on the hillside, or smooth off the gravel on the walkway.
But we can also sit around the smelly lounge and wait for lunch. He
who doesn't work can't go out and doesn't get money. These people
discreetly play up to the workers who smoke, and beg for their ciga–
rette butts. The majority never get a leave; it's possible
to
jump the
fence, but the spy network is pretty extensive, and the director hears
about everything. It doesn't really pay to run away; our identity
papers are locked in the safe, and without them you can't settle
down or take a job anywhere. The hospital clothes are also fairly
conspicuous. The fugitive can't go on tramping too long: he is
bound to run into the police, who will promptly return him to the
asylum . Then he is in for a little shock therapy, an increase in his
medication, and a decrease in his spending money. A letter is sent to
his relatives, who are not too concerned anyway, stating that they
ought to stay away for a whi le . The director is sad: why doesn ' t the
patient feel at home in his permissive, model community? His cha-
