As soon as I arrived in a new apartment
I would lay out all my books on the table.
All already read, and reread.
I would not buy a book unless
the desire to read was stronger
than the hunger that gnawed at me.
This is still the case for many people.
When our condition changes
we think it’s the same
for everyone.
I know those who must constantly choose:
to eat, or to read?
I consume as much meat here
in one winter
as a poor man eats in Haiti
his whole life long.
I have gone in such a short time
from forced vegetarian to obligate carnivore
In my prior life, food
was the daily worry.
Everything turned on the stomach.
The moment that one had enough to eat, all was well.
It’s impossible for those who haven’t lived it
to understand.
Two years ago, after a violent hurricane passed through Haiti, I received a letter from a young student who entreated me to let the good willed people who thought to send food to the victims that it was their wish that each bag of rice be accompanied by a case of books, for, wrote he, “We do not eat to live, but to be able to read.”
One day, I bought a book,
without any pressing need.
It lay three months unopened,
on the little kitchen table,
among the carrots and onions.
Today, I note that more than half my library
remains to be read.
I wait to be committed to a sanatorium to plunge myself into Buddenbrooks by the severe Thomas Mann or to follow the trail of The Leopard de Giusseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa. Why do we hold onto books we will never read? For The Leopard the name of the author alone was worth the price. I forget what kept me from reading Thomas Mann’s novel.
I take my leave with a small bag.
Like the one I had when I arrived here.
Nearly empty.
Not a single book.
Not even my own.
Staying but a brief night in Port-au-Prince
before speeding off to Petit-Goave to
receive this home, not far
from the old guildive my grandfather ran.
Later, I will cross the rusty old bridge
to visit my grandmother in the cemetery.
I would spend the rest of my time
chatting about everything and nothing
with people who had never
opened a book in their lives.
And that precious moment will come
sooner or later
when I confuse the books that I’ve read
with those that I’ve written.
Everything moves on this planet.
Seen from the sky one sees the south
always in motion.
Entire populations climbing
to seek life in the north.
And when everyone is there
we will fall off the edge.
Sometimes a telephone call in the middle of the night
upturns everything in an instant.
One loses oneself then in the commotion.
It's always easier to change your place
than to change your life.