WHERE AM I? It feels like I’ve returned from far away. Who am I? I don’t know anymore. Shadows surround me, I can’t see anything, but I begin to sense a warmth lending me life. I try to open eyes that aren’t mine, to move hands that don’t belong to me, but that will belong to me soon, I can tell. My legs are there … Strange, I feel something beneath my dream of a body. There, where I’m returning from, I swear to you, all is immobile. There where I’ve come from, there is no body. But, now, I who was nowhere, I sense myself living. I sense myself becoming incarnate. I sense flesh, bathed in red-hot blood, enclose me. I sense against my belly, against my soon-to-be chest, another body moving, infusing mine with heat. I feel it warming my skin. Where I’ve come from, there is no heat. Where I’ve come from, I swear, nobody has a name. I’m going to open my eyes that are no longer mine. I don’t know who I am. My name escapes me still, but I’ll remember it soon. Strange, the body beneath mine isn’t moving anymore. Strange, I sense its immobile heat beneath me. Strange, I sense, suddenly, hands pressing on my back, a back that doesn’t entirely belong to me yet, thighs that are not yet mine, a neck that doesn’t belong to me but that I absorb, that I accept as mine, thanks to the soft hands touching me. Strange, the hands are suddenly pummeling my back, my thighs, scratching at my neck. Beneath their scratching, this body that wasn’t yet mine became mine. I swear to you, it’s pleasant to leave nothingness. I swear to you that I was there without being there.
And now it’s done: I have my body. For the first time I have come inside a woman. I swear to you, it’s the first time. I swear to you that it’s very, very good. Before now I had never come in the insides of a woman because I didn’t have a body. A voice from very, very far away said to me, “It’s much better than with your hand!” This voice from far away whispers in my head, “It’s as loud as the first shell exploding on a silent morning, it wrenches your guts.” It’s the voice from far away that tells me again, “There’s nothing better in the world.” I know, I understand that it’s this voice from far away that will give me a name. I know, I understand, the voice will soon baptize me.
The woman who has given me this bodily pleasure is beneath me. She is immobile, her eyes closed. I swear to you that I don’t know her, I’ve never seen her. In fact, she’s the one who gave me eyes to see by offering herself to my view. I swear to you that I see with eyes that aren’t mine, that I touch with hands that don’t belong to me. It’s incredible, but I swear to you that it’s the truth. My inside-outside, as the voice from far away calls it, is now in an unknown woman’s body. I can feel the interior heat of this woman’s body, surrounding it from top to bottom. I swear to you that I feel as if I’m inhabiting my own body now that I’ve inhabited the body of the unknown woman. She lies beneath me, she isn’t moving, her eyes are closed, I don’t know who she is. I swear to you that I don’t know why she agreed to welcome my inside-outside into her interior. It’s unusual to find yourself lying on top of an unknown woman. It’s unusual to have the impression of being a stranger in your own body.
Even my hands I’m seeing for the first time. I shake them, I move them across both sides of the head of this woman I am lying on top of. Her eyes are closed. I am leaning on my elbows. I sense her breasts brushing against my chest. I observe my two hands trembling near her head. I didn’t think they’d be so big. I swear to you that I thought I had smaller hands, thinner fingers. I don’t know why, but here I am with very, very large hands. It’s strange, but when I bend my fingers, when I clench and unclench my fists, I can tell that I have the hands of a wrestler. I swear to you that where I come from I didn’t seem to have a wrestler’s hands. The little voice from far away is what told me that from now on I would possess a wrestler’s hands. This is a surprise. I have to find out if the rest of my body is the body of a wrestler. I have to verify the state of this body that is mine without being mine. I have to detach my body from the unknown woman who lies beneath me. She seems to be sleeping. It’s strange that I don’t look at her very much, although she’s beautiful—I get the sense that I like beautiful women. But first I have to look again at my body to find out if it resembles a wrestler’s body, as the voice from far away claims.
I detach myself from this beautiful woman with her eyes closed who is lying beneath me. It’s strange to hear the sound of our two bodies detaching. I want to laugh. It makes a small moist sound like that of a child pulling his thumb out of his mouth quickly because his mother has forbidden him to suck on it. This image that comes from far away makes me laugh inside my head. It’s also strange to find myself lying next to an unknown woman. Not to mention that it’s strange to feel my heart beating so fast in my excitement to find out if the rest of my body is like my hands. I lift my arms toward the ceiling of the white bedroom. My two arms: I swear to you, they’re like two old mango tree trunks. I rest my arms alongside my body. I lift my two legs straight at the ceiling of the white room: I swear to you, you would say they look like two baobab tree trunks. I stretch my two legs out again on the bed and I say to myself that it’s strange to find oneself in the body of a wrestler. It’s strange to arrive in the world in such good physical condition. It’s strange to discover that you have such strength. I swear to you that I don’t have any fear of the unknown, I fear nothing, just like a real wrestler, but it’s still strange to be born in a beautiful wrestler’s body next to a beautiful woman instead of in the body of a weakling lying next to an ugly one.
I am not afraid of the unknown. I swear to you. I’m not even afraid not to know my own name. My body tells me that I’m a wrestler and that’s enough. No need to know my name, my body is enough. No need to know where I am, my body is enough. No need for anything from now on except to explore the power of my new body. Once again, I lift my arms, thick as mature mango tree trunks, toward the ceiling of the white room. My hands seem farther from my shoulders than I expected. I clench my fists, then I unclench them, I clench and unclench them again. It’s strange to see the muscles in my arms dance beneath my skin. My arms are heavier than I expected, they’re full of a suppressed power that feels like it could explode at any moment. But I’m not afraid of the unknown.