Yesterday, I slept for a long time. I dreamed that I was dead. I saw my grave. It was abandoned, covered in weeds.
An old woman was walking among the graves. I asked her why no one was taking care of mine.
“It’s a very old grave,” she said. “Look at the date. There can’t be anyone who would know the person buried here.”
I looked. It was the current year. I didn’t know how to reply.
When I woke up it was already dark. From my bed I could see the sky and the stars. The air was clear and mild.
I walked. There was nothing else but walking, the rain, the mud. My hair and my clothes were wet, I wasn’t wearing shoes, I was walking barefoot. My feet were white, their whiteness stood out against the mud. The clouds were gray. The sun hadn’t come up yet. It was cold. The mud too was cold.
I walked. I encountered other pedestrians. They were all walking in the same direction. They were light, you would have thought they were weightless. Their rootless feet were never injured. It was the road of those who have left their home, who have left their country. This road led nowhere. It was a wide, straight road without end. It went through mountains and towns, gardens and towers, leaving no trace in its wake. When you turned around, it had disappeared. There was no road except straight ahead. On each side lay vast muddy fields.
Time is ripped apart. Where are the wastelands of childhood? The elliptical suns frozen in black space? Where is the path left hanging in the void? The seasons have lost all meaning. Tomorrow, today, what do these words mean? There is only the present. One time, it snows. Another time, it rains. Then there is sunshine, wind. All that is now. It has not been and will not be. It is. Always. All at the same time. For things live in me and not in time. And, in me, everything is present.
Yesterday, I went to a lake. The water is very dark now, very murky. Every evening, a few forgotten days are launched into the waves. They head for the horizon as if they were navigating at sea. But the sea is far away from here. Everything is far away.
I believe I will soon be cured. Something will break inside me or somewhere in space. I will depart for unknown heights. There is nothing on earth but the harvest, the unbearable waiting and the inexpressible silence.