³¹ A story
He was trying to explain to her the way he saw the world : through stories, each story refracting other stories, and it was a game of mirrors and reflections, where each moment could possibly fall into circles of myth, fairytale — memory. It was possible to see little difference between a purring cat, a sudden snowstorm, that strange light on the pavement. They maybe did not belong to a celestial logic — though the possibility couldn’t be excluded — and they did not necessarily signify, but they obeyed the laws of stories. Something could unite them, at any moment. Or rather — they already were united within a certain field. Laws, you said ? No, maybe laws wasn’t what he meant at all, he meant something entirely different. (It was becoming difficult to explain and she was getting confused as well.) How was this different from the world — the objective, the material, the concrete world ? No — it wasn’t different, or — well : in stories, everything is possible — right ? — and everything happens by necessity — right ? Maybe this is what he meant : total possibility and its absolute absence juxtaposed. Aren’t you contradicting yourself ? No, I'm not — and he added : this is myth — a story that is mythical can have many versions, many endings and their contradictions are not exclusive, they don’t negate each other. Weren’t you supposed to be a historical materialist ? Well — that doesn't contradict what I’m saying — or : you know, Niels Bohr had a horseshoe on his door — same thing isn’t it. And he mentioned Funes the Memorious and seeing the world as absolute memory. Why are you bringing memory up, now ? Well — maybe he felt something similar — but imagination and stories had replaced memory — or, wait : I’ll try something else. It is perhaps like a bat, sending echoes through a cave, the sounds groping the walls, like a lantern. That’s how I move, that’s how I see. A bat ? Really — a bat ?
Ok. Wait. I’ll try something else.
This is the story of a boy trying to explain to a girl how he moves in the world. He’s not managing very well and he gets lost among his explanations. They’re in a room, it’s nighttime, and a big poplar tree shines in from the window.
See — it's a story
it’s starting to get resolved.