"
Savouring my worn platitude, he promised to arrange for an interview in
Zurich, the regional headquarters.
So many years have passed since then.
Perhaps a dream, perhaps a motion picture snippet, perhaps I am
overwhelmed by one of my confabulations. I remember descending from a
train, ankle-high in rustling snow, treading uncharted tracks towards
an illuminated building, a boarding school. The manageress conducts a
prideful tour of speckles premises. Toddlers in flowery pyjamas amuse
themselves with ligneous cubes and plastic toys.
I can't remember if I have never been there.
That morning, in Zurich, I climbed up a hill, next to the colossal
railway, and rang an ornate bell at the gate of an unassuming office
building. I was let into an antechamber and led into the quarters of
the abbot. He had a kind face, without a trace of gullibility. His desk
was neatly organised, framed by heaving bookcases and shafts of greying
light.
I was being examined, oblivious to the rules. "Why do you wish to join
us?" - he enquired, then - "Follow me." We climbed down to the
dormitories of the fresh initiates. He mutely pointed at the crooked
berths, the metal chests, the hanging hair shirts. "We fast a lot.
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