An odd but enjoyable day yesterday. David came by, we all got drunk, scoffed pizza, and David and Morgana talked in German for hours. i could understand just enough to be able to happily sit and listen. After a while i was slowly overwhelmed by a peculiar, irresistible emotion – as when i felt suddenly sure that an American blog-brother had been an English boy i knew in my last life, who had then died young, the emotion bypassed the usual, fairly rational ways and simply arrived, and took possession. i tried to resist but it simply gathered force and swept my Elberriness aside, till i was silently crying with almost no idea why – only that it was to do with the sound of spoken German, being in the room with two good friends, listening to that old language living again about me, made living by the living. Aeneas´grief, when he sees his own story, the fall of Troy, painted on the walls of Dido´s city – sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt – it is not just grief for the dead, it is the unsettling sense of distantly observing one´s own past life, being both oneself and another.
This other part of me, which is largely in shadow, is responding to the world he knew – the language he spoke, the language he was. It was disconcerting, painful, fascinating. The last 34 years, who Elberry is, swept aside by his remembrance. Once more i am grateful that i remember so little, that the door in my mind is opening so slowly.
i was undone, absolved of myself, and glad. Later that evening i was further undone, tenderly, and with delicacy and care, and without complication.