FRANZ ROSEN

Alternatives

OR HOW DO I REALLY KNOW that such an optimistic scenario as I’ve just described is the truth? Or as they say in certain circles, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. A stranger’s averted eyes on the bus, a friend who ends a phone conversation a shade too abruptly, a second or perhaps a third brandy after dinner – any of these are capable of catapulting me into darker imaginings.

Only to my personal knowledge has no one shunned me. Only some people have come up to me on the street and embraced me and shed tears. You may see the possible directions in which such qualifications may take me, either towards the shoals of paranoia or towards a more acute and candid apprehension of our human situation.

I would prefer not to dwell on it. If I am surrounded by people who secretly despise me, then I must cherish all the more those whose kindnesses are unmistakable. If people call me secret names, I must hold dear those names. I must vigilantly defend my optimism. It is only natural, in a climate such as ours, that people of ordinary capacity might hide their actual feelings if those feelings could subject them to public criticism or disgrace. A dearth of civic courage can work in any number of ways. Where it may once have paved the pathway to catastrophic events, today it may help to keep the peace. I do not know what others think. That is simply the truth, and perhaps a fortunate truth at that.