letra de orlando - prologue - olga neuwirth
oh, how young i was… it was unfairly laid upon me
the burden of providing a memoir
i’m not the most widely lived or the most richly memoried
i do constantly ask myself:
ls the way we define ourselves, memory?
why do we forget?
i began to search among the infinite
series of impressions which time had laid down
leaf upon leaf, fold upon fold softly, incessantly upon my brain;
smong scents, sounds; voices, harsh, hollow, sweet;
and lights passing, and brooms tapping;
and the wash and hush of the sea
who am i that i should be asked to write a memoir?
i am a mere dabblеr in dreams
one who is not fish, flesh, fowl or good rеd herring
n0body now asks me to marry;
for many years n0body has attempted to seduce me
though showing off, which is not copulating
is one of the great delights, one of the chief necessities of life
only then does all effort ceases;
one ceases to be honest, one ceases to be clever
one fizzes up into some absurd delightful effervescence of soda water or champagne
since i last sat down here under my old oak tree
my house, which is tangled and matted with emotions of my family history
has been taken away from me
but: i am still writing – i continue writing
nothing worth calling an adventure has befallen me since
but i still seem to myself a subject of inexhaustible and fascinating anxiety –
a volcano in perpetual eruption
therefore i open my eyes and exclaim:
“here i am again”
not always with pleasure, often with pain;
sometimes with a spasm of acute disgust
but always, always with interest
the past only comes back when the present runs so smoothly
that it is like the sliding surface of a deep river
then one sees through the surface to the depths
in those moments i find one of my greatest satisfactions
not that i am thinking of the past;
but it is then that i am living most fully in the present
such was the case: it all began in 1598
the age was elizabethan and violence was everywhere
he was only sixteen
yes, he – for there could be no doubt of his s-x
though the fashion of the time did something to disguise it…
he – was in the act of…
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