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  ON JORGE L. BORGES
1996
 
The Whys and Wherefores of a Sphere
   
 
Whether I see you from the front, from the back, from the top, from below. In short, from all possible viewpoints. Whether I saw you yesterday, a while ago; whether I see you now. Whether I see you early tomorrow, in ten years time. Simultaneously and at the same place. Literature. Thought. A mere speculation, which nonetheless governs the world where we live in. The world we take pleasure in, and the world that makes us suffer. The world that feeds us. The world we believe to go round and round and round.
Maybe I should refer only to Borges. Demand that his texts lead to the sphere, the aleph. I should pay no heed to the feeling that tells me that everything might be comprised within this stone: Hilario Ascasubi; my face; the River Plate; the old School of Philosophy and Letters; the suburbs of Buenos Aires; his Elegy to Gates; the house, now turned into a parking lot, where Borges translated Whitman…dozens of Borgesian spots in Buenos Aires, where I have captured these images, where I have placed this ball the indians have made. Where I have had fun, cried, and enjoyed myself thinking of a shape that might adequately represent the deity.


res, Buenos Aires, 2004
   
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