epilogue

“The boy called for the girl to follow him, and he took her hand. He would protect her; they would make their way through this oppressive castle, fighting off the creatures made of smoke and doubt, escaping to a life of freedom. The boy wanted to protect the girl. He held her hand, or put his arm around her shoulders in a walking embrace, to help her feel supported and close to him amid the impersonal throngs of Manhattan. They turned and made their way toward the Canal St. subway station, and he picked a path through the jostling crowd.”

His arm weighed upon her shoulders, felt constrictive around her neck. “You’re burdening me with your ridiculous need,” she said. Or, she said: “You’re going the wrong way and you’re pulling me with you.” In another time, another place, she said: “Stop yanking on my arm; you’re hurting me!”

“He worked his ruler and his compass. He inferred. He deduced. He scrutinized the fall of an apple, the twisting of metal orbs hanging from a thread. He was searching for the Princess, and he would not stop until he found her, for he was hungry. He cut rats into pieces to examine their brains, implanted tungsten posts into the skulls of water-starved monkeys.”

Ghostly, she stood in front of him and looked into his eyes. “I am here,” she said. “I am here. I want to touch you.” She pleaded: “Look at me!” But he would not see her; he only knew how to look at the outside of things.

“He scrutinized the fall of an apple, the twisting of metal orbs hanging from a thread. Through these clues he would find the Princess, see her face. After an especially fervent night of tinkering, he kneeled behind a bunker in the desert; he held a piece of welder’s glass up to his eyes and waited.”

“On that moment hung eternity. Time stood still. Space contracted to a pinpoint. It was as though the earth had opened and the skies split. One felt as though he had been privileged to witness the Birth of the World…¹”

“Someone near him said: ‘It worked.'”

“Someone else said: ‘Now we are all sons of bitches.’”

“She stood tall and majestic. She radiated fury. She shouted: “Who has disturbed me?” But then, anger expelled, she felt the sadness beneath; she let her breath fall softly, like a sigh, like ashes floating gently on the wind.”

“She couldn’t understand why he chose to flirt so closely with the death of the world.”

“The candy store. Everything he wanted was on the opposite side of that pane of glass. The store was decorated in bright colors, and the scents wafting out drove him crazy. He tried to rush for the door, or just get closer to the glass, but he couldn’t. She held him back with great strength. Why would she hold him back? How might he break free of her grasp? He considered violence.”

“They had been here before on their daily walks. She didn’t mind his screams and his shrieks, to the way he yanked painfully on her braid to make her stop. He was too little to know better.”

“She picked him up and hugged him: “No, baby,” she said. He was shaking. She followed his gaze toward treats sitting on pillows behind the glass: the chocolate bar and the magnetic monopole, the It-From-Bit and the Ethical Calculus; and so many other things, deeper inside. “Maybe when you’re older, baby,” she whispered, setting him back on his feet and leading him home, “Maybe when you’re older.”

“Every day thereafter, as before, she always walked him on a route that passed in front of the candy store.”

“He cannot say he understood all of this. Possibly he’s more confused now than ever. But all these moments he’s contemplated — something has occurred. The moments feel substantial in his mind, like stones. Kneeling, reaching down toward the closest one, running his hand across it, he finds it smooth, and slightly cold.”

“He tests the stone’s weight; he finds he can lift it, and the others too. He can fit them together to create a foundation, and embankment, a castle.”

“To build a castle of appropriate size, he will need a great many stones. But what he’s got, now, feels like an acceptable start.”

 

world 1

“That night at the cinema, fictitious adventurers lunge implausibly across the screen. The audience here is mixed. Some are patrons of the cafe, now sitting excitedly in the plush chairs, eager for another new flavor, for distraction from the boredom of their easy lives. Other seats hold fisherman and farm workers, hoping to forget their toils and rest their hands.”

“Tim is here too, but he is scrutinizing the gloss on the lips on the screen, measuring the angle of the plume of a distant helicopter crash. He thinks he discerns a message, when the cinema closes and most of the audience strolls down the plaza to the south, Tim goes north.”

“People like Tim seem to live oppositely from the other residents of the city. Tide and riptide, flowing against each other.”

“Tim wants, like nothing else, to find the Princess, to know her at last. For Tim this would be momentous, sparking an intense light that embraces the world, a light that reveals the secrets long kept from us, that illuminates – or materializes! – a final palace where we can exist in peace.”

“But how would this be perceived by the other residents of the city, in the world that flows contrariwise? The light would be intense and warm at the beginning, but then flicker down to nothing, taking the castle with it; it would be like burning down the place we’ve always called home, where we played so innocently as children. Destroying all hope of safety, forever.”

 

esitazione

Forse, in un mondo perfetto, l’anello sarebbe un simbolo di felicità. E’ un segno di eterna devozione: anche se non troverà mai la Principessa, lui continuerà a cercarla. Continuerà a indossare l’anello.

Ma l’anello afferma la propria presenza. La luce che emana è come un avvertimento. Tiene lontane le persone. Sospetto, diffidenza. Le interazioni cessano ancora che Tim apra bocca.

Col tempo, impara a trattare gli altri con prudenza. Imita il loro incedere esitante, aprendosi con delicatezza un sentiero attraverso le loro difese. Ma è stancante, e funziona solo in parte. Non gli procura ciò che gli serve.

Tim comincia a nascondere l’anello in tasca. Ma non lo sopporta: se restasse nascosta troppo tempo, quella parte di lui potrebbe soffocare.

tempo e decisione

Lei non aveva mai del tutto compreso i suoi impulsi, quell’intensità che, col tempo, aveva cesellato rughe sul suo viso. Non gli era mai abbastanza vicina, ma lui la stringeva come se lo fosse, bisbigliandole all’orecchio parole che solo un’anima gemella dovrebbe ascoltare.

Terminata la cena, entrambi compresero che il momento era arrivato. Lui avrebbe detto: “devo trovare la Principessa”, ma non ce ne fu bisogno. Con un ultimo bacio, si mise in spalla la sacca da viaggio e se ne andò.

Per tutte le notti che seguirono, lei continuò ad amarlo come se fosse rimasto lì a confortarla e a proteggerla, e al diavolo la Principessa.

tempo e luogo

A pranzo dai genitori, un giorno di festa, a Tim sembrò di essere tornato indietro nel tempo a quando viveva sotto il loro tetto, oppresso dall’ostinazione con la quale i suoi si aggrappavano a valori per lui privi di senso. Sporcare di sugo la tovaglia bastava a scatenare un battibecco, a quei tempi.

Cercando un sollievo nella brezza fresca, Tim si avviò verso l’università che aveva frequentato dopo aver lasciato la casa dei suoi. Via via che si allontanava da quell’ambiente soffocante, sentiva gli imbarazzi dell’infanzia dissolversi nel passato. Ma riviveva ora tutte le insicurezze dei giorni dell’università, tutto il panico del barcamenarsi nelle relazioni sociali.

Tim accolse con sollievo la fine della visita: nel presente, seduto nella sua casa e immerso nelle contraddizioni, si scoprì molto migliorato rispetto al passato.

Giorno dopo giorno, migliorandosi, si avvicina sempre di più alla Principessa. Se lei esiste -e deve esistere!- trasformerà lui, e tutti gli altri.

Durante il viaggio sentì che ogni luogo aveva un’emozione, e ogni emozione un ricordo: un tempo e un luogo. Non poteva allora accadergli di incontrare la Principessa quella sera stessa, semplicemente vagando e ascoltando le proprie sensazioni? Una pista di sentimenti, di timore e ispirazione, avrebbe potuto condurlo a quel castello: in futuro, stretto nel suo abbraccio, il suo eccitante profumo crea un momento così intenso da riportarlo al passato.

Il mattino dopo, Tim uscì subito di casa, diretto verso qualunque cosa il giorno gli riservasse. Sentiva qualcosa di simile all’ottimismo.

tempo e mistero

Tanti anni fa, Tim aveva lasciato la Principessa. L’aveva baciata sul collo, aveva preso la borsa da viaggio e se n’era andato. In parte, rimpiange di averlo fatto. Ora si è rimesso in viaggio per trovarla, per dimostrare quanto sia stato triste andar via, ma anche per dirle quanto sia stato bello.

Per molto tempo, aveva pensato che la loro fosse una relazione perfetta. Lui ferocemente protettivo, correggeva i suoi errori prima che influissero su di lei. Lei, a sua volta, tenendo a freno i propri errori lo compiaceva in tutto.

Ma crogiolarsi nel conforto dell’amicizia può avere gravi ripercussioni. Per renderti perfettamente felice, lei deve capirti perfettamente. E così non puoi sottrarti alle sue aspettative, o alla sua influenza. La sua benevolenza ti ha circoscritto e la tua vita non uscirà mai dalla mappa che lei ha tracciato.

Tim non voleva essere manipolabile. Voleva una speranza di trascendenza. Aveva bisogno, a volte, di essere immune al tocco amorevole della Principessa.

In lontananza, Tim vide un castello dove gli stendardi garriscono anche quando il vento si è spento, e il pane in cucina è sempre caldo.

Un posto un po’ magico.

tempo e perdono

Tim è alla ricerca della Principessa, rapita da un mostro orribile e malvagio.

Questo è successo perché Tim ha commesso un errore.

Più di uno, anzi. Ha commesso molti errori durante il tempo che hanno trascorso insieme, tanti anni fa. I ricordi sono offuscati, sostituiti da altri ricordi, ma un’immagine gli è rimasta impressa nella memoria: la Principessa che gli girava bruscamente le spalle, la sua treccia che lo sferzava con disprezzo.

Lei ci aveva provato, ad essere indulgente, ma chi può dimenticare una bugia colpevole, una pugnalata alla schiena? Certi errori cambiano irreversibilmente una relazione, anche se chi ha sbagliato ha imparato dal suo errore e non lo rifarebbe mai. Lo sguardo della principessa si incupì. E lei divenne più distante.

Il nostro mondo, basato su rapporti di causa ed effetto, ci ha insegnato ad essere avari di perdono, perché perdonare ci espone al rischio di soffrire. Ma se abbiamo imparato dai nostri errori, se ci hanno fatti diventare migliori, non dovremmo essere premiati per questo, piuttosto che puniti?

Ma se il mondo funzionasse in maniera diversa, potremmo dirle: “Non intendevo dire quello che ho detto” e lei risponderebbe: “Non importa, capisco” e non se ne andrebbe via. E la vita proseguirebbe come se davvero quella cosa non fosse mai stata detta. L’esperienza ci renderebbe comunque più saggi, ma non dovremmo più soffrire per i nostri errori.

Tim e la Principessa passeggiano nel giardino del castello. Ridono insieme, inventando nomi per gli uccelli colorati. Gli errori dell’uno sono nascosti dall’altro, al sicuro tra le pieghe del tempo.

hesitance

“Perhaps in a perfect world, the ring would be a symbol of happiness. It’s a sign of ceaselessness devotion: even if he will never find the Princess, he will always be trying. He still will wear the ring.”

“But the thing makes its presence known. It shines out to others like a beacon of warning. It makes people slow to approach. Suspicion, distrust. Interactions are torpedoed before Tim can open his mouth.”

“In time he learns to deal with the others carefully. He matches their hesitant pace, tracing a soft path through their defenses. But this exhausts him, and it only works to a limited degree. It doesn’t get him what he needs.”

“Tim begins to hide the ring in his pocket. But he can hardly bear it – too long tucked away, that part of him might suffocate.”

time and decision

“She never understood the impulses that drove him, never quite felt the intensity that, over time, chiseled lines into his face. She never quite felt close enough to him – but he held her as though she were, whispered into her ear words that only a soul mate should receive.”

“Over the remnants of dinner, they both knew the time had come. He would have said: ‘I have to go find the Princess,’ but he didn’t need to. Giving a final kiss, hoisting a travel bag to his shoulder, he walked out the door. Through all the nights that followed, she still loved him as though he had stayed, to comfort her and protect her, Princess be damned.”

time and place

“Visiting his home for a holiday meal, Tim felt as though he had regressed to those long-ago years when he lived under their roof, oppressed by their insistence on upholding strange values which, to him, were meaningless. Back then, bickering would erupt over drops of gravy spilt onto the tablecloth.”

“Escaping, Tim walked in the cool air toward the university he’d attended after moving out of his parent’s home. As he distanced himself from that troubling house, he felt the embarrassment of childhood fading into the past. But now he stepped into all the insecurities he’d felt at the university, all the panic of walking a social tightrope.”

“Tim only felt relieved after the whole visit was over, sitting back home in the present, steeped in contrast he saw how he’d improved so much from those old days. This improvement, day by day, takes him ever-closer to finding the Princess. If she exists – she must! – she will transform him, and everyone.”

“He felt on his trip that every place stirs up an emotion, and every emotion invokes a memory: a time and location. So couldn’t he find the Princess now, tonight, just by wandering from place to place and noticing how he feels? A trail of feelings, of awe and inspiration, should lead him to that castle in the future, her arms enclosing him, her scent fills him with excitement, creates a moment so strong he can remember it in the past.”

“Immediately Tim walked out his door, the next morning, toward whatever the new day held. He felt something like optimism.”