Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [105]
A wardrobe stood on the other side of the bed. It had large, burnished, light metal fixtures; the surface was painted a smooth dark-brown teak color, and it reflected like a mirror anything within two yards. Somewhere—perhaps in the kitchen—she was humming in a low voice. Since I could hear only the higher tones, I could not tell what the song was. I put on my coat and began walking … and she too began to walk … when she crossed in front of the lemon-yellow curtains, her face became black, her hair white, and her lips white too, the irises of her eyes became white and the whites black, her freckles became white spots, white like dust that has gathered on the cheekbones of a stone image. I began to walk too … Muffling my footsteps, I began to walk in the direction of the door.
I SLOWLY came to a halt there. I stopped as if pushed back by the spring of the air. The weight which I had shifted from the ball of my left foot to the heel of my right flowed back again and came down heavily on my left leg. The slope of the road was steep.
The surface of the street was not asphalt but a rough-textured concrete with narrow grooves about five inches apart, apparently to prevent slipping. But they did not look as though they would be much help to pedestrians. The purposely rough concrete surface was covered with dust and tire shavings, and on rainy days, even if one wore old rubber-soled shoes, it would surely make for difficult walking. No doubt the pavement was made in this way for cars. If so, the grooves every five inches would be very effective. When the drainage of the street was obstructed by melting snow and sleet, they looked as though they would be useful in channeling the water into the gutters.
Yet there were few cars, despite the care taken to build such a road. Since there were no sidewalks, four or five women carrying shopping baskets had spread out over the width of the street and were walking along completely absorbed in their chattering. A young boy perched on a roller skate and imitating a horn came sliding down the middle of the slope. Hastily I gave way to him, for I too had naturally been walking down the middle of the street.
I slowly came to a halt there. I stopped as if pushed back by the spring of the air. The weight which I had shifted from the ball of my left foot to the heel of my right flowed back again and came down heavily on my left leg.
On the left-hand side was a high protective wall where rocks were piled up on a slight incline. To the right, beyond a little ditch, rose an almost perpendicular cliff. Its surface was screened by a similar protective wall, but from there the road made a wide curve to the left and soon came to the plateau at the top of the slope. If one advanced five or six more paces, the view would suddenly open up and the town on the plateau would be visible. There was no room for doubt. It was a road I was so used to taking that I passed by quite oblivious to its very existence as long as nothing drew my attention. The road had become completely familiar after how many hundreds of times I had been over it. Now I was going over it as usual … and I was returning to my own house.
Unexpectedly I came to a halt. I paused as if forced back by the spring of the air. I halted, in spite of myself recoiling at the strangely clear impression I had of the sloping road that I usually took no notice of. The reason for my stopping was clear, of course, to me alone, but it was hard to believe. Why, no matter how I tried, could I not remember the scene that must lie beyond the curve just ahead, the scene which I must know by sight as well as I did this stretch of road now before my eyes?
It was not yet anything to make me feel uneasy, though. When I thought about it, I had the feeling that I had many times before experienced similar lapses of memory. I would wait a