Selected Cronicas

A FLOWER BEWITCHED AND TOO BRIGHT BY FAR

I swear, believe me — the drawing-room was in darkness — but the music summoned me to the centre of the room — there was something lurking there — the entire room grew dark within the darkness — I was in darkness — yet I felt that, however dark, the room was bright — I took refuge in my own fear — just as I had already taken refuge from you in you yourself — what did I find? — nothing except that the dark room lit up with the brightness of a smile — and that it was inherent in the flower — I was trembling in the centre of this awkward light — believe me, even though I cannot explain — it was as if I had never seen a flower — it was something perfect and full of grace which seemed superhuman, but was life — and I nervously pretended that the flower was the soul of someone who had just died — I invented this because I did not have the strength to look directly at the life of a flower — and I looked at that bright centre whose energy was so light that it appeared to stir and become dislocated — and the flower was as vibrant as if a menacing bee were hovering overhead — a bee frozen by fear? — no — it would be more accurate to say that the excited bee and flower were meeting — one life up against another, one life on behalf of another — or frozen by fear before the suffocating grace of this flickering candle which was the flower — I was the bee — and the flower trembled before the dangerous sweetness of the bee — believe me, even if I myself cannot explain it — some fatal rite was being accomplished — the room was filled with that penetrating smile — yet it was nothing more than the whitening of shadows — there was no remaining proof of what I had experienced — I can swear to nothing — I am the only proof of myself — and by giving myself I can explain what I alone witnessed — I cannot understand how anyone could be afraid of a rose — for that flower was a rose — I have had the same experience with violets which were extremely delicate — but I was afraid — they smelled of the grave — and the flowers and bee already summon me — alas I cannot refuse — I am being summoned — and at heart I truly want to go — this rash encounter with a flower is my encounter with my destiny.