“Theories of Influence”
I do not know how I got through the first
day after the storm but recall that during
the night, doubting what I had seen
with my own eyes I walked once more
through the park. Where and in what
time I truly was that day in Orfordness
I cannot say even now as I type these
words. I cannot say how long I stood
by one of the three windows, engrossed
in that view. Whenever I rested on that bed
over the next few days, my consciousness
began to dissolve at the edges, so that at
times I could hardly have said how I
had got there or indeed where I was.
I have only an indistinct notion of how
beautiful it all was, said Anne, nor can I
properly describe now the feeling of being
driven in that limousine that appeared
to have no one at the wheel. I cannot
remember whether it was she who
turned the conversation to the fact
that nobody wears mourning any more
not even a black band on the sleeve
or a black stud in the lapel. But why
it was that on my first visit to Michael’s
house I instantly felt as if I lived or had
once lived there, in every respect precisely
as he does, I cannot say. Instead I left
the building with a sick feeling in the pit
of my stomach & walked & walked without
being able to grasp even the simplest thought
well past the Westkreuz or the Hallesches
Tor or the Tiergarten; I can no longer say
where. I cannot say how long I walked about
in that state of mind or how I found a way
out. I no longer remember if it was the Lord
Asquith the Aristo or the Fabiola. To this day
I do not know what to make of such stories.
–after WG Sebald
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Don’t Forget to Love Me by Anselm Berrigan is available via Wave Books.
