Eco: Foucalt's Pendulum eco foucault (highly illogical behavior txt) 📖

pays noattention; he adores her, wants to free her from the angels'imprisonment, and when she dies, he sits and stares at the sun foran hour and goes for days without drinking or eating, inhabited byJoanna, who no longer exists but it's as if she did, because she'sstill there, she inhabits the world, and every now and then sheresurfaces, that is, she's reincarnated...Isn't that a story tomake you cry?"

"I'm dissolved in tears.Are you so pleased to be Sophia?"

"But I'm Sophia for you,too, darling. You know that before you met me you wore the mostdreadful ghastly ties and had dandruff on yourshoulders."

Riccardo was holding herneck again. "May I join the conversation?" he said.

"You keep quiet anddance. You're the instrument of my lust." "Suits me."

Belbo went on as if theother man didn't exist. "So you're his prostitute, his feminist whodoes public relations, and he's your Simon."

"My name's not Simon,"Riccardo said, his tongue thick. "We're not talking about you,"Belbo said. His behavior had been making me uneasy for some whilenow. He, as a rule so guarded about his feelings, was having alovers' quarrel in front of a witness, in front of a rival, even.But this last remark made me realize that with his baring ofhimself before the other man¡Xthe true rival being yetanother¡XBelbo was reasserting, in the only way he could, hispossession of Lorenza. Meanwhile, holding out her cup for moredrink, Lorenza answered: "But it's a game. I love you."

"Thank God you don'thate me. Listen, I'd like to go home, I have a stomachache. I'mstill a prisoner of base matter. Simon hasn't done me any good.Will you come with me?"

"Let's stay a littlelonger. It's so nice. Aren't you having fun? Besides, I stillhaven't looked at the pictures. Did you see? Riccardo made one onme."

"There are other thingsI'd like to do on you," Riccardo said.

"You're vulgar. Stop it.I'm talking about Jacopo. My God, Jacopo, are you the only one whocan make intellectual jokes with your friends? Who treats me like aprostitute from Tyre?

You do."

"I might have known. Me.I'm the one pushing you into the arms of old gentlemen."

"He's never tried totake me in his arms. He isn't a satyr. You're cross because hedoesn't want to take me to bed but considers me an intellectualpartner." "Allumeuse."

"You really shouldn'thave said that. Riccardo, get me something to drink.''

"No, wait," Belbo said."Now, I want you to tell me if you take him seriously. Stopdrinking, dammit! Tell me if you take him seriously!"

"But, darling, it's ourgame, a game between him and me. And besides, the best part of thestory is that when Sophia realizes who she is and frees herselffrom the tyranny of the angels, she frees herself from sin...""You've given up sinning?"

"Think it over first,"Riccardo said, kissing her chastely on the forehead.

"I don't have to," shereplied¡Xto Belbo, ignoring the painter. "Those things aren't sinsanymore; I can do anything I like. Once you've freed yourself fromthe flesh, you're beyond good and evil."

She pushed Riccardoaway. "I'm Sophia, and to free myself from the angels I have toperpet...per-pet-rate all sins, even the mostmarvelous!"

Staggering a little, shewent to a corner where a girl was seated, dressed in black, hereyes heavily mascaraed, her complexion pale. Lorenza led the girlinto the center of the room and began to sway with her. They werebelly to belly, arms limp at their sides. "I can love you, too,"Lorenza said, and kissed the girl on the mouth.

The others gatheredaround, mildly aroused. Belbo sat down and looked at the scene withan impenetrable face, like a producer watching a screen test. Hewas sweating, and there was a tic by his left eye, which I hadnever noticed before. Lorenza danced for at least five minutes,with movements increasingly suggestive. Then suddenly he said: "Nowyou come here."

Lorenza stopped, spreadher legs, held her arms straight out, and cried: "I am the saintand the prostitute!"

"You are the pain in theass." Belbo got up, went straight to her, grabbed her by the wrist,and dragged her toward the door.

"Stop it!" she shouted."Don't you dare..." Then she burst into tears and flung her armsaround his neck. "But darling, I'm your Sophia; you can't getmad..."

Belbo tenderly put anarm around her shoulders, kissed her on the temple, smoothed herhair, then said to everybody: "Excuse her; she isn't used todrinking like this."

I heard some snickersfrom those present, and I believe Belbo heard them, too. He saw meon the threshold, and did something¡Xwhether for me, for theothers, or for himself, I've never figured out. It was a whisper,when everybody else had turned away from the couple, losinginterest.

Still holding Lorenza bythe shoulders, he addressed the room, softly, in the tone of a manstating the obvious: "Cock-a-doodle-doo."

51

When therefore a GreatCabalist wishes to tell you something, what he says will not befrivolous, vulgar, common, but, rather, a mystery, anoracle...

¡XThomaso Garzoni, //Theatre de vari e diversi cervelli mondani, Venice, Zanfretti,1583, discorso XXXVI

The illustrations Ifound in Milan and Paris weren't enough. Signer Garamond authorizedme to spend a few days at the Deutsches Museum inMunich.

I spent my evenings inthe bars of Schwabing¡Xor in the immense crypts where elderlymustached gentlemen in lederhosen played music and lovers smiled ateach other through a thick cloud of pork steam over full-liter beersteins¡Xand in the afternoons I went through card catalogs ofreproductions. Now and then I would leave the archive and strollthrough the museum, where every human invention had beenreconstructed. You pushed a button, and dioramas of oil explorationcame to life with working drills, you stepped inside a realsubmarine, you made the planets revolve, you played at producingacids and chain reactions. A less Gothic Conservatoire, totally ofthe future, peopled by unruly school groups being taught toidealize engineers.

In the Deutsches Museumyou also learned everything about mines: you went down a ladder andfound yourself in a mine complete with tunnels, elevators for menand horses, narrow passages where scrawny exploited children (madeof wax, I hoped) were crawling. You went along endless darkcorridors, you stopped at the edge of bottomless pits, you feltchilled to the bone, and you could almost catch a whiff offiredamp. Everything life-size.

I was wandering in atunnel, despairing of ever seeing the light of day