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SOMEONE ELSE: A Chronicle of the Change

SOMEONE ELSE: A Chronicle of the Change Translated by Tim Wilkinson It is raining. A man at a restaurant table is explaining something to a woman, something inexplicable. He would like to abandon his ceaselessly miscarried attempts at finding happiness. He has had enough of chasing after pleasure down false trails of promises that lead nowhere. No, not another woman, not at all, God forbid. Freedom. Bobbing up for air from the confused maelstrom, one relationship after another, that has been swirling for years. He is fed up with discerning his own inadequacy in every relationship. The idea of a brief, intense, creative life flickers in his mind. A sullen observance of fidelity and duties, the fire that nourishes constant depression. That fire is cold, cold as ice, yet the flame of great satisfaction flares within him. “Was wüßten sie, wer er war”— nobody knows who he is, and what he wants is to be left alone with this secret. The woman’s face as she listens. At this point she ought to get up and leave, head held high, her sobbing barely stifled. She doesn’t move. So the man leaps up, kisses the woman, still tenderly but swiftly, on the eyes, then hurries out of http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Common Knowledge Duke University Press

SOMEONE ELSE: A Chronicle of the Change

Kertesz, Imre
Common Knowledge , Volume 10 (2) – Apr 1, 2004
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33 pages

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Publisher
Duke University Press
Copyright
Copyright 2004 by Duke University Press
ISSN
0961-754X
eISSN
1538-4578
DOI
10.1215/0961754X-10-2-314
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Translated by Tim Wilkinson It is raining. A man at a restaurant table is explaining something to a woman, something inexplicable. He would like to abandon his ceaselessly miscarried attempts at finding happiness. He has had enough of chasing after pleasure down false trails of promises that lead nowhere. No, not another woman, not at all, God forbid. Freedom. Bobbing up for air from the confused maelstrom, one relationship after another, that has been swirling for years. He is fed up with discerning his own inadequacy in every relationship. The idea of a brief, intense, creative life flickers in his mind. A sullen observance of fidelity and duties, the fire that nourishes constant depression. That fire is cold, cold as ice, yet the flame of great satisfaction flares within him. “Was wüßten sie, wer er war”— nobody knows who he is, and what he wants is to be left alone with this secret. The woman’s face as she listens. At this point she ought to get up and leave, head held high, her sobbing barely stifled. She doesn’t move. So the man leaps up, kisses the woman, still tenderly but swiftly, on the eyes, then hurries out of

Journal

Common Knowledge – Duke University Press

Published: Apr 1, 2004

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