A mi hermana Chloé, mi “absent other” en la distancia.
April 22, 2011
Dear John,
A couple of days
ago, I had the starting revelation about the effect our correspondence has had
on me. We have been at it for close to three years now, and in that time you
have become what I would call an “absent other”, a kind of adult cousin to the
imaginary friends little children invent for themselves. I discovered that I
often walk around talking to you in my head, wishing you were with me so I
could point out the strange-looking person who just walked past me on the
sidewalk, remark on the odd scrap of conversation I just overheard, or take you
into the little sandwich shop where I often buy my lunch so you could listen to
the talk that goes on in there with me. I love that place, a wholly
unpretentious nothing of a place, with its heterogeneous clientele of cops and
firemen, hospital workers from across the street, mothers with their children,
students, truck drivers, secretaries, and what makes the place special is the
men who work behind the counter, good-spirited young guys with the proletarian
Brooklyn voices, who seem to know everyone who comes in there (“I talked to
your mother yesterday,” “I hear your son is doing well on his Little League
team,” “Welcome back. How was your trip?”), as if I were living in a small provincial
town and not in a gigantic metropolis, and I know you would appreciate the
spirit inside that shop and understand (if you don’t already) what I find so
interesting about living in New York. So there you are, John, inside my head as
I talk to you, and nothing like this has ever happen to me –probably because I
have never corresponded with anyone so regularly—and the effect, I can assure
you, is an entirely pleasant one.”
…
Until my return.
With best thoughts,
Paul
(Paul Auster a J.M. Coetzee en Here and Now: Letters 2008-2011)
