A thing peeping on its own rouses that ever so gentle curiosity that beside a manger is worship. Tomorrow is Christmas, but the moment of silence I await all year came a day before Christ’s birth. As soon as we released the chick, its charm took us by surprise. It was brought by a hand that wanted the pleasure of giving me something born. My unexpected consent to know was provoked today by the fact that a chick turned up in the house.
I am trying to talk about that family that disappeared years ago without leaving a trace in me, and of whom all I’ve retained is an image tinged green by distance. Yet sometimes I awake from a long slumber and I meekly turn to the delicate abyss of disorder. Before the same jury I’d answer: I hardly know myself-and to every face in the jury I’d say with the same clear-eyed look of someone hypnotized into obedience: I hardly know you. If anyone asked me about Ofélia and her parents, I’d have answered with the decorum of honesty: I hardly knew them.
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