Victor Serge Men In Prison [Unduh pdf]

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Ebook Title : Victor Serge Men In Prison

Ebook Thickness	: 234 Page
Language	: English

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The revolutionary living under the shadow of the prison wall or the gallows, who, suddenly, in a busy street, feels he is being watched; the underground agitator coming home at night, having finished his work as organizer or journalist, who is suddenly aware of a shadow clinging to his shadow, of firm footsteps dogging his own; the murderer, the thief, the deserter, the hunted man, whoever he may be they all know that moment of panic. It is a moment as painful to anticipate as to live through, courage and will power notwithstanding. The only difference between cowards and other men is that the others, after living through this moment without revealing their emotion by the slightest gesture, recover full possession of themselves. The cowards remain broken.

Eighty! The chaplain won’t be able to see more than thirty today. In two hours, subtracting the time needed to get around the prison, that leaves three minutes and thirty seconds for each visit. At five o’clock the chaplain goes away. At five o’clock, Pirard, Marcel, who is “going crazy” from being alone, suddenly feels crushed, overwhelmed by the idea that the chaplain will not come to see him today, that no one will come for another week. Why yes, why did they refuse this evening to give Pirard, Marcel, this last sacrament: three minutes and thirty seconds of human presence?

The world I carry within me has a crystal sphere as its symbol: fullness, perfection. I am free because nothing more can be done to me. Chained to the wall by a circle of iron, I will know how to close my eyes, without a whimper. Let necessity run its course; I am all assent. I have divided the world into two parts: chains, things and my very flesh, which is a thing are in your power. The crystal sphere, my will, my lucidity, my freedom are irrevocably mine.

I hover between this disappointing reality which is still nothing more than this familiar darkness and my strange inability to imagine anything else. I will be free in a few hours. Free. The enormous word is written in flaming letters before me. But is that all? I can’t see beyond it. I don’t know what will happen. I can’t believe it’s really true. Do I still believe in the world? The outside is unreal. I am about to enter the unreal. Like the sleeper who dreams “I’m going to wake up” and doesn’t believe himself: I think about the last hours of men condemned to die: They can’t imagine what death is. I can no longer imagine what life is.