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| Photo: PEN American Center |
THE
MOUNTAIN (*)
9
[…]
He
lowered himself again, coughed into his armpit. He was wearing a strange pair
of suede boots trimmed on the outside with some fleecy synthetic—women’s boots,
I thought. His pants were loose and brown, drawn in at the ankles.
“The
large stone outside this village,” I said. “Why were those words painted
there?”
“Someone,
leaving, painted the words.”
“When
you found them, you painted them over, made them illegible.”
“We
are not painters. It was not a good painting.”
“Why
did he do it?”
“There
are many setbacks. We lose purpose, get sick. Some people die, some wander off.
There are differences in meaning, differences in words. But know this. Madness
has a structure. We might say madness is all structure. We might say structure
is inherent in madness. There is not the one without the other.”
He
coughed into his armpit.
“No
one has to stay. There are no chains or gates. More die than leave. We are here
to carry out the pattern. A small patient task. You have the word in English.
Abecedarian. This is what we are.”
“I
don’t know the word.”
“Learners
of the alphabet. Beginners.”
“And
how did you begin, how did the cult begin?”
“This
can wait for another time. We will talk again if the occasion permits.”
[…]
____________________________________________________________________
(*) The Names was published
by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., New York, 1982.
Copyright ©
1982 by Don DeLillo
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