I stole a book from my friend. Not really stole, I borrowed and failed to return it. Maybe failed isn't the right word, for to fail you need to try, and I didn't try. The book began to feel like my own. I read and reread it. It was special, it spoke to me. To my friend it was just a book, but to me it was a treasure.
The book was called Atlas. It featured short writings by Jorge Luis Borges that accompanied photos by Maria Kodoma. It's been years since I've turned those pages. There is in the book a very short piece, I think it was called the Last Wolf in Europe. I can't remember the lines but the writing was so powerful that I can remember the emotions I felt when I read it. I felt the feeling of being pursued. It made me feel an awful solitude. the words made me feel what it would be like to come to the end of something.
My unlawful possession of the book came to an end. My friend came over for supper one evening. My wife went to my bookshelf and brought the book to him, she reminded him that it was his and that we had it in our house for a long time.
That same evening my wife reminded my friend to take home his Miles Davis CD, that we had had it for a long time too.
My wife is a good partner, but a terrible partner in crime.
2 comments:
Beautiful photo, Peter. I love how the sky goes from white to a beautiful deep blue. And, I always love any image with trees silhouetted against the sky.
I have never heard of Atlas. But you have me very intrigued. I'm thinking a trip to the library tomorrow is bubbling to the surface on my list of things to do. :)
Miles Davis, hah? I'd have never let that one go. The trick is to not put them on your shelves. Leave them in piles covered by mail or newspapers. Then no one can find them when the true owner comes to call. :)
I am sure your friend, if he is a true friend, did not mind the prolonged lending. There is a strange delight in having an item returned that you had forgot was lent to someone. Its like getting it for the first time all over again.....
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