There are constantly, she tells him further, lions in the village that stroll around without the least constraint. Providing we pay no attention to them, they don’t pay any attention to us.
But if they see a girl running away from them, they won’t excuse her anxiety. No! they devour her immediately.
That’s why they stroll around constantly in the village where they have nothing to do, since they could yawn just as well elsewhere, isn’t that obvious?
VIII
For a long, long time, she confides to him, we’ve had a dispute with the sea.
Those rare times she’s blue, mild, we could believe she’s content. But that can’t last. Her odor says it anyway, an odor of rot (if it wasn’t her bitterness).
Here I should explain the affair with the waves. It’s insanely complicated, and the sea... I implore you, have faith in me. Would I want to deceive you? She isn’t just a word. She isn’t just a fear. She exists, I swear: she’s seen constantly.
By whom? Why we, we see her. She comes from very far off to quarrel with us and scare us.
When you come, you’ll see her yourself, you’ll be completely astonished. “Hey!” you’ll say, since she’s stupefying.
We’ll look at her together. I’m sure that I won’t feel afraid anymore. Tell me, will this never happen?
IX
I can’t leave you with any doubts, she continues, or with a lack of faith. I’d like to speak to you about the sea again. But there’s still this quandary. Streams go forward; but she doesn’t. Listen, don’t be annoyed, I swear I’d never dream of deceiving you. She’s like that. However strongly she stirs, she stops for a bit of sand. It’s a huge impediment. She certainly wants to move forward, but facts are facts.
Later on maybe, someday she’ll move forward.
X
“We’re more than ever surrounded by ants”, says her letter. Uneasy, bellies against the ground, they kick up dust. They don’t take any interest in us.
Not one raises its head.
It’s the most closed society that could exist, although they spread constantly outside. It doesn’t matter, their fulfilled schemes, their preoccupations... they’re among themselves... everywhere.
And up till now not one has raised its head toward us. It’d rather be squashed.
XI
She writes to him further:
“You can’t imagine everything that’s in the sky, you have to see it to believe it. So, here you go, the... but I’m not going to tell you their name just now.”
Despite an air of being very heavy and despite taking up almost the whole sky, they don’t weigh, big as they are, as much as a newborn baby.
We call them clouds.
It’s true they give off water, but not by squeezing them or by pulverizing them. This would be useless, since they hold so little.
But provided that they take up lengths upon lengths, and widths upon widths, and depths, too, upon depths, and that they swell up, in the long run they let a few drops of water, yes, water, fall. And we get good and soaked. We run away furious at having been trapped; because no one knows the moment when they’re going to let their raindrops loose; sometimes they hold off for days without letting them loose. And one would stay home in vain waiting.
XII
Education about chills isn’t handled well in this country. We’re ignorant of the real rules and when the event arises, we’re taken by surprise.
It’s Time, of course. (Is it the same where you are?) One has to get there sooner than it does; you see what I mean to say, no more than just a little bit beforehand. Do you know the story of the flea in the drawer? Yes, of course. And it’s so true, isn’t it! I don’t know what more to say. When are we going to see each other at last?