A General Theory of Oblivion

MAY 27TH

Che Guevara was very agitated this morning.

He was jumping from branch to branch. Crying out.

Later, looking out of the living room window, I saw a man, running.

A tall fellow, really thin, incredibly agile. Three soldiers were running after him, close behind. Throngs of people were streaming from the corners, in bursts, joining the soldiers. Within moments there was a whole crowd in pursuit of the fugitive. I saw him crash into a boy who was crossing in front of him on a bicycle, and he tumbled, flailing, into the dust. The mob was about to reach him, it was just an arm’s length from him, when the man jumped onto the bicycle and resumed his flight. By now a second group had formed, a hundred metres further along the road, and there were stones raining down. The poor wretch ducked into a narrow alleyway. If he could have seen a bird’s-eye view, like I could, he never would have done it. A dead end. When he realised his mistake, he ditched the bike and tried to jump the wall.

A tossed stone hit the back of his neck and he fell.

The throng reached him. They launched themselves, kicking, onto his thin body. One of the soldiers drew a pistol and fired it into the air, clearing a way through. He helped the man to his feet, holding the pistol pointed towards the crowd. The other two were shouting orders, attempting to calm tempers. Finally they managed to make the crowd move back, they dragged the prisoner off to a van, threw him inside and left.

I haven’t had electricity for over a week. So I haven’t listened to the radio. I have no way of knowing what’s going on.

I was woken by gunshots. Later, looking through the living room window, I saw the really thin man, running. Phantom roamed about all day, going round and round his own fear, gnawing on his toes. I heard shouts in the next-door apartment. Several men arguing. Then, silence.

I couldn’t sleep. At four in the morning

I went up onto the terrace.

The night, like a well, was swallowing stars.

Then I saw a flatbed truck go by, laden with dead bodies.