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Camille de Toledo Translated by Ann Jefferson A far-off place, a fable, and a few adjustments In an apartment on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, between three old factories, a father and a son sit embracing. The hand belonging to the father pats the son on the back to reassure him, and in return the son pats his father's shoulder with his own little hand. The son is not old enough to know, or to learn. He is unaware of the schemes being hatched in the world outside, the plots and the intrigues. He presses close against his father, just presses, obliging him to slow down. He takes his father away from life's demands, obliges him to quiet. No, you won't go to work, the child seems to say as he clasps him close, I need you, I don't want you to go. But which of them is comforting the other? It's a question the father asks himself, then thinks of the hole into which the gestures of love are poured as the years go by. He pats. Pat, pat, pat. His son, snuggled against him, pats him in return. They could remain like this, each pressed against
Common Knowledge – Duke University Press
Published: Mar 20, 2014
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