BOOK I
A FOX IN SEARCH OF ENDLESSNES
You always have to ask yourself when to start. Every time history is told, It's... In reality, it's a magic trick. You know? Where to start? When to stop? It's not like a tale, or a pun.
But in a well-told story, you know, it all comes together anyway and... It just becomes a motion. Like a movement. So the start or the ending are no longer important.
Like this.
Close your eyes. Imagine the movement I've just made with my arm. Try to identify its beginning. Distinguish the segments. You can't.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
What? You see the pieces of gesture in your head? Argh, yes yes, you can say "ah, I'll stop the move when I want", but... Hey, Saliana, listen to me. Do you want me to tell you the story or not?
Okay.
So when you stop the movement in your head, as I was saying. When you stop it, it's no longer a movement. It's just someone in a position. You see? For you it's a movement as long as you're able to think about the before and after at the same time. So how do you tell, how do you imagine an infinite gesture like our history?
Well, that's just a metaphor, but I can see that I've confused more than one of you. You'll understand when I've finished telling the story... hopefully before supper. Yes, we eat stew.
You can open your eyes. No, you know what, close them. This is how I'm going to start: with the plains fox, just as he arrives at the jungle. Eyes closed.
