EL OBJETO INANIMADO
En mis largas conversaciones nocturnas con los carceleros, retomé la
cuestión del objeto: ¿Permanece indiferente si se percibe o no?
(Tenía en mente aquél escondido y encontrado póstumamente
mientras la celda recientemente desocupada era fumigada y barrida.)
"Como un demonio, grabado en madera,de alguna especie salida de
una pesadilla", dijo uno. "En código", dijo otro. Estábamos tomando
un trago casero que nos hacía dar vueltas la cabeza. "Cuando un botón
del cuello cae al piso y apenas hace ruido," dijo el tercero con una
sonrisa, pero yo no dije nada.
"Si tan sólo uno pudiera dejar algo pequeño que haga a otros pensar", pensé
para mis adentros.
Mientras tanto, estaba mi pedazo de botella rota para preocuparme.
Era verde y tenía un filo letal. Ya no recordaba su escondite,
a no ser que sólo la hubiera soñado, o ésta era otra celda,
otra prisión en una serie infinita de prisiones y largas conversaciones nocturnas
con mis carceleros.
The Inanimate Object
In my long late night talks with the jailers, I raised again the question
of the object: Does it remain indifferent whether it is perceived or
not? (I had in mind the one concealed and found posthumously while
the newly vacated cell was fumigated and swept.)
"Like a carved-wood demon of some nightmarish species," said one.
"In cipher writ," said another. We were drinking a homemade brew
that made our heads spin. "When a neck button falls on the floor and
hardly makes a sound," said the third with a smile, but I said nothing.
"If only one could leave behind a little something to make others stop
and think," I thought to myself.
In the meantime, there was my piece of broken bottle to worry about.
It was green and hade a deadly cutting edge. I no longer remembered
its hiding place, unless I had only dreamed of it, or this was another
cell, another prison in an infinite series of prisons and long night tals
with my jailers.
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