548
PARTISAN REVIEW
Our language has not been decoded by any of your textbooks; we
ourselves don't always understand our abbreviated messages. But if
I feel like stuffing pebbles into my pipe and then sucking on it, the
others won't find this strange at all .
You, on the other hand, are commanded by some sentimental
crime-fighting instinct to harass us while curing us. OK, you cause
us pain; but why do you want us to applaud your acts as well? You
give us a bed and our meals; but how tiresome it is to get a bowl of
soup only if we also swallow our medicine. Our feet are numb, our
mouths parched; we drag ourselves along and put up with the ridic–
ulous work. Sorting out ugly threads of cotton is clearly something
you thought up to punish us. And why not?
If
you wish, we'll stick
together blades of grass and arrange them in pairs; we'll saw the air
in half. We enjoy exposing the absurdity of your rule with our sense–
less work.
I sit on the bench, waiting for the king offools. What I call "I"
has dried up, like water from a can. I and the world are two names
for the same thing. I am not afraid of God, I've joined forces with
Him. Each of us knows about the other. I would like to see the her–
mit or the one with the cleaning compulsion on the bench next to
me, but from the bishop I move away. I would be happiest to see the
pale rabbi who knows that even death is a step on the path of love. I
greet my friend when he arrives, though I need not make certain
that he is really there. It's nice to lean back with him next to you; he
exudes peace, though he utters not a word, not even a simple para–
ble-in his youth he said so much. Words usually hold truth captive ;
a whole dictionary is called, but only a few words are chosen, and
the rabbi sitting next to me has no desire to choose even one. I have
to smile because my guest thought of something amusing. I will not
detain him, I know his weakness: for him the world is but an exten–
sion of his daydreams; he prefers his own lucidity to the world's.
The fun begins; consciousness, like a cat, bites its tail. When I get
tired of watching him, I look through myself as through a slightly
smeary window.
