Escape - Yesterday

Yesterday, a familiar wind was blowing. A wind I had come across before.

Spring had come early. I was walking in the wind with a brisk, determined step, as every morning. Yet I wanted to go back to my bed and lie there, motionless, without thoughts, without desires, lie there until the moment when I felt the presence of that thing which is not voice, taste, or smell, simply a very vague memory, something from beyond the borders of memory.

Slowly, the door opened and in a moment of terror my dangling hands felt the soft, silky fur of the tiger.

“Music,” it said. “Play something! On the violin or the piano. Preferably the piano. Play!”

“I don’t know how,” I said. “I’ve never played the piano in my whole life, I don’t have a piano, I’ve never had one.”

“In your whole life? Nonsense! Go to the window and play!”

Outside my window there was a forest. I saw the birds gathering on the branches to listen to me playing. I saw the birds. Their little heads tilted and their staring eyes looking right through me.

My music grew louder and louder. It became unbearable.

A dead bird fell from a branch.

The music stopped.

I turned around.

The tiger sat in the middle of the room, smiling.

“That’s enough for today,” it said. “You should practice more often.”

“Yes, I promise I will practice. But I’m expecting visitors, you see, if you don’t mind. They, these people, might find it strange, you being here, in my house.”

“Of course,” it said with a yawn.

It went out with a supple stride and I double-locked the door behind it.

“See you again,” it called out as it left.

Line was waiting for me at the factory entrance, leaning against the wall. She looked so pale and sad that I decided to stop and talk to her. However, I walked past her, not even turning my head in her direction.

A short while later, after I had started up my machine, she stood next to me.

“You know, it’s strange. I’ve never seen you laugh. I’ve known you for years. In all the years I’ve known you, I haven’t seen you laugh once.”

I looked at her and burst out laughing.

“I’d rather you didn’t do that,” she said.

At that moment I felt a stab of anxiety and I leaned over to the window to see whether the wind was still there. The movement of the trees reassured me.

When I turned around, Line had gone. Then I spoke to her:

“Line, I love you. I really love you, Line, but I don’t have time to think about that, there are so many things I have to think about, this wind, for example, I have to go out now and walk in the wind. Not with you, Line, don’t be angry. Walking in the wind is something you have to do alone, because there is a tiger and a piano whose music kills birds, and only the wind can banish the fear, it’s a well-known fact, I’ve been aware of it for a long time.”

The machines rang out the Angelus all around me.

I walked along the corridor. The door was open.

This door was always open and I had never tried to leave by this door.

Why?

The wind swept the streets. These empty streets seemed strange to me. I had never seen them on a weekday morning.

Later, I sat down on a stone bench and cried.

In the afternoon, the sun came out. There were small clouds scurrying across the sky and it was very mild.

I went into a café, I was hungry. The waiter placed a plate of sandwiches in front of me.

I said to myself:

“Now you must go back to the factory. You must go back, you have no reason for being off work. Yes, now I will go back.”

I started crying again and I noticed that I had eaten all the sandwiches.

I took the bus to save time. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. I could put in another two and a half hours’ work.

The sky clouded over.

When the bus went past the factory, the conductor looked at me. Further on, he tapped me on the shoulder.

“End of the line, sir.”

The place where I got off was a sort of park. Trees, a few houses. It was already dark when I went into the forest.

Now the rain was getting heavy, it was mixed with snow. The wind was lashing my face. But it was him, the same wind.

I walked, faster and faster, towards a summit.

I closed my eyes. I couldn’t see anything in any case. With each step I bumped into a tree.

“Water!”

Way above me, someone had called out.

It was ridiculous, there was water everywhere.

I, too, was thirsty. I threw my head back, spread my arms and let myself fall. I shoved my face into the cold mud and I didn’t move.

That’s how I died.

Soon my body mingled with the earth.