The materials I’ve been using in this quest for knowledge were claiming for a space of their own, all over the desk’s top and inside its drawers. Sometimes, with a sense of order, priority, urgency, novelty, among those piles. In others, a mere consequence of dumping the contents of my bag, at the end of another day. Others still, resulting for a search of a physical evidence of some memory of mine, a glimpse, a hint, an unexpected connection. Mornings, afternoons and nights, almost indistinct from each other, under the heavy skies out there, under the fading lights, in here.
In some distant arcade, a clock tower calls out six times and then stops. The young man slumps at his desk. He has come to the office at dawn, after another upheaval. (…) In the dim light that seeps through the room, the desks appear shadowy and soft, like large sleeping animals. (*)
The books, recipes and potions, from the latest lessons, still waiting for a fresh look, more attentive and long, occupy the top for good measure. Some scattered coins, on the right-hand corner, fruit of my afterhours work. Inside a drawer on the left, the notes for the next classes I will teach, and the income register. Study notebooks, inside two others. Still in the top row, a drawer containing the letters exchanged with my students, discussing their progress and discoveries. Further down, the travel journal and the itinerary of the paths to follow.
(to be continued)
On a journey, riding with Newton, a game of Nestore Mangone and Simone Luciani, Ediciones Mas que Oca (2018) under license of Cranio Creations.
.
(*) Einstein’s Dreams, Alan Ligthman, Vintage Contemporaries, 2004.
On a journey, riding with Newton, a game of Nestore Mangone and Simone Luciani, Ediciones Mas que Oca (2018) under license of Cranio Creations.
.
(*) Einstein’s Dreams, Alan Ligthman, Vintage Contemporaries, 2004.
No comments:
Post a Comment