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I try to forget. This silent war against her book that I am weary dizzying. I close my eyes. Under my eyes I see areas of black spiders, which extend out of sight, millions, billions of spiders and black hairy. My own vision scares me. I open my eyes hurriedly. I want to dispel this darkness. I close them in a movement fascinated. Huge areas of black araingées invaded space. So I tell myself that something bad has penetrated my heart. Then I say the wrong thing, she is the new secretary. A noise

me away from these dark thoughts. SHE SPEAKS. I forgot about it. Can we prevent a human being to speak? Lydie Salvayre

, Common Life, Folio, 4547, p. 33

(c) Franco Grillo