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I must record this here so I may perhaps write about it at a later date. *Why do I not write about it now,* you ask? It's the infernal breezy feeling in my cerebrum.
This duration blindness in the middle-aged
exile is quite a widespread disease. Later,
when I decided to avoid the exile’s
obsession with his roots (exiles’ roots
penetrate their personalities a bit too
deeply), I studied exile literature
precisely
to avoid the traps of a consuming and
obsessive nostalgia. These exiles seemed
to have become prisoners of their memory
of idyllic origin—they sat together with
other
prisoners of the past and spoke about the
old country, and ate their traditional food
while some of their folk music played in the
background. They continuously ran
counterfactuals in their minds, generating
alternative scenarios that could have
happened and prevented these historical
ruptures, such as “if the Shah had not
named this incompetent man as prime
minister, we would still be there.” It was
as
if the historical rupture had a specific
cause, and that the catastrophe could have
been averted by removing that specific
cause. So I pumped every displaced
person I could find for information on their
behavior during exile. Almost all act in the
same way.
It goes without saying that this reminds me very distinctly of Vesna and her ilk.
@flavigula@sonomu.club
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