samedi 28 septembre 2013

Letters from Milena Jesenska to Franz Kafka


I saw you sometimes so evanescent, so deeply sad, so versatile, it pained me deeply, and I was sad to not being able to make you happy and change you ( but in reality you do not want to.) I felt so strong compared to you and so .. failing of not being able to do more (but if I had been as C., good wife, it was not me and I would not be able to help you on others sides -more important.- )

I saw you just now. Nothing. A little joy (as when you meet an old friend who has changed.) Not really understand the funnels (a symbol ?) But it's always nice, a gift. I'm glad to know you're happy, relatively, and apparently well supported (at least for what you really want to, even if you will rarely admit it). It took me a while but I returned to myself, including back pain. I understood (or rather agreed to see) that my sadness had nothing to do with you, you just hide it to me, (I was trying to cheer you, and have less time to read newspapers) : so, as soon as I was alone , it is returned. But it does not come from your absence, it is inherent in the clear awareness that we are moving towards an ecological disaster and much faster than expected, and the fact that I'm fighting with disproportionately small arms as many friends, like all those who are fighting, and we will not win.

Basically I should not really love you (at least not the way you wanted ) : a relationship once a month, a few days in the South could work, but probably, accustomed now to C, (a good wife) you want more, can be rightly.. And my disenchantment that you had devined before me hurts you. That's the cause of your sadness. I think I loved you two years (before A) when we never saw us (!) After, that was not the same ... And strangely, this crazy love resurfaced during my crisis in June 21, resurfaced from a past so distant, buried .. Then I reasoned.. I forced me to tear it from me, even if I had to take me a piece of flesh with.. It did not always work, or with ups and downs ..

And finally there was the shock (goog ideed! elsewhere, it could last forever). The encounter with you and her.. There, happened in a few seconds what would have taken a year or two to finish. The hard drive reformated, emptied at full speed, erasing its data from 20 years in a zip. Hop ! and nothing .. Virgin. Ready to start again, free.
In short, we was not loved at the same time .

Something in you prevents wanting, love. The love that you say you have had to me ( like everything) was not acted . "Later " you said , ( when you'll have the courage to face your mother, tell her that you loved a non-Jewish woman, worse, divorced.) But later (often) is never. This relative inability to be, to live (I 'm the opposite, I want it all and immediately) made me changed too, as a virus. Disappointed, a little hurt, I launched into what was a tragedy (A). And then it was hopeless. After, love marveled at the first encounter had gone.

I'frighten you as much as I fascined you. But Franz, he, had the courage to tell her (Milena) and break early, knowing that he could only insatisfyed her and at the end he would hate her. He was also Jewish, faced with a terrible father; she, as me, was not jewish but she also was faced with a terrible father. You see, there is little to be transposed.

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