The arrogance of uniqueness
- Do you know how we’ll fade out? In the end I’ll have to let you go, turning you into a rock, maybe one of the many stones I stepped on- I used to tell you showing off an almost resigned self-confidence. Do you remember?
You looked at me carefully, like a man who, gently, challenges. But I already knew the end, because it always finishes like this: they lose their mind and then their head. They all want to become acquainted with me, unmask me and lastly they crave knowing me, but they can’t constrain me.
As I did with others, I began talking to you by chance. The persistence of your inquiring gaze overcame the glances of the other colleagues. Meticulous observer. You ended up turning me away from the conversations through the exclusive channel of your attentions. From the lunch breaks spent talking, handling here and there the insipid dishes at the canteen, we moved to personal writings. Endless daily exchanges of tales, poems and songs. Intellectually refined. We used to talk about books, movies, music, but mainly about writings. We depicted ourselves. You and I. There was no us, for I had no carnal interest; I only sensed a sort of constant tension channelled in the mutual spark exchange. Our interests intertwined with duties, thoughts introduced our desires.
We worked at the same company and the elegance of asking me whether you could wait for me outside went beyond any form of sweet courtesy I had experienced. Feeling pursued was an illusion starting to slide into flattery. Your attentions became concerns, concerns turned into inquietudes, inquietudes into jealousy. Promises of a deep and sheltered morbidness.
I was the only who deserved your looks and your gestures. Nothing would hurt you. My provocations, the requests of leaving me alone, neither the prayers would work: I was the beauty you were looking for.
You accompanied me everywhere. I met you everywhere. A quiet specter immersed in its silence. A motionless and greedy Eros static, in the dark spot of existence, while observing my pale body, the one you venerated. You became a spot, untiringly present during my day, grabbed on my body and mind.
Your omnipresence became the obligation of being. The arrogance of uniqueness.
You wanted to know everything, every deep and evil thought: I was suffocating. I was your target and knowing me was no longer enough. I needed an escape route from your looks. I wanted my books back and so the nights, when sitting in the study, I wrote listening to music in the quiet and never dreaded loneliness. Smothered, tormented, blinded, surrounded, beset, I encouraged you to be familiar with me – or better, to know me, as you always said- in depth.
The mighty red-bricked walls in the old furnace told me what to do. The outskirts hid your cries. The corporeality of the collision made me exhausted, the resistance of your skin was greater than those of your poor predecessors.
Each part of your body weighted at least as the persistence of your looks. I heard the sound of the shovel scraping the floor. – Do you think you’re the only one?- my yells did not cover the sound of the metal against the concrete. The beast quietened in me punished you for being so naïve and allowing me to conquer, capture and turn you into an inert being only cable of suffocating harassments. An unlikely surprised expression was still pasted on your cold face: monsters sleep during the day, didn’t you know?
In the atrium of the damp furnace the dust had matted colours, I saw black and white: from your dark blood, almost petroleum, I could only recognize its density. The walls were faded, the lime floor was grey. I straightened my back, dried my forehead, placed the shovel near the wall and I moved to the old building’s exit.
“Know me like this,
evanescent in the borders,
static. Made of marble,
I don’t feel
and I don’t sense, I
I am stone
able to destroy
and then fall apart”
I declaimed my pray holding the flowers before placing one of them over your ashes and leave.