Ho,ho,ho,ho

The risk that anyone runs on these dates is not being clear about the gift that you are going to ask Santa Claus.

When they asked me what I needed, back on December 14 — then they would ask me again, as a last chance, on December 23 — I answered that I didn´t need anything, that I couldn´t think of anything that I could wish for at that time, and that was my fatal error.

In this situation prior to December 25, it has become a repetition, something like a kind of deja vu in the last twenty years. Sometimes, to make it easier, I have suggested something to them and it was when the  pack of interior shirts was accompanied by a neckband shirt or a Tito Paris CD, but this time, the truth, as I said, I was missing nothing in particular.

This year, Santa Claus has been presented with a couple of interior shirts and with Breath: The new science of a lost art by James Nestor.

My friend, if I had come face to face with Santa in the middle of the night, ho, ho, ho, ho, I would have traded the book for a pair of boxer shorts.

From my Borstal.

LDR

 Man´s Search for Meaning (4)

Failed Suicide Cases

If you read the passage from F's dream, his illness and death, you will understand that this is what happened to Mike's father when his wife died: he no longer had — or he believed he no longer had — reasons to live, so the leukaemia, which was lethargic, suddenly appeared.

Shocking, on the other hand, is the reading of two cases of attempted suicide. Lager laws forbade the rope of the person who wanted to hang himself to be cut. Therefore, if you wanted to save the life of a potential suicide, you had to act before the noose was placed around his neck.

To introduce us to the phase after liberation - what V. Frankl calls the Third Phase - the psychiatrist compares a prisoner in a concentration camp to a diver:

 

Just as a diver — subjected to atmospheric pressure — would be in danger if his diving suit were suddenly removed, a man suddenly released from psychological tension can suffer damage to his mental health.

 

Page 120 of the book is very rich and we should not read it without stopping a little longer than we have been doing it.

After liberation, our doctor only feared God.

From my Borstal.

LDR

Viktor Frankl.- El hombre en busca de sentido. CTE. Herder Editorial. Barcelona, 2015

P.S.- The second part of the book is all dedicated to some 'Basic Concepts of Logotherapy' and that is a garden in which I don´t want to get involved. However, I don´t want to stop recommending, dear friend, the reading of the case of doctor J that appears in the last pages.

 Man´s Search for Meaning (3)

Et lux in tenebris lucet   

In the event that you do not have this book in your hands, I will continue to advance you brushstrokes of the next phase that an ordinary person goes through while being confined in a Nazi death camp, according to psychiatrist Viktor E. Frankl.

On page 55, Viktor Frankl describes the lack of feeling he had in the second phase of life at the Lager: he was able to eat his soup while looking at the corpse of a person he had been talking to two hours earlier.

For a moment, the doctor seems to agree with psychoanalysis, at least at first, because it leaves open the question whether the dream that satisfies a basic desire is psychologically beneficial, because in the end when a prisoner dreams of bread, cakes, cigarettes and a good bath of hot water, when waking up he finds the terrible reality.

A few paragraphs below, Dr. Frankl openly refutes one of the postulates of psychoanalysis when he briefly describes sexuality in the extermination camp. It is a basic desire that is almost completely overridden by both malnutrition and the initial shock. This is a phenomenon that draws the attention of psychologists.

Apathy, hunger, the absence of feelings, emptiness, desolation ..., but despite everything, there are things that refuse to die. The inmate imagines being with the loved one and talks and listens to him or her and the small events shared by both are relived with such intensity that they seem indestructible.

In closing, I have a question for you. Do you know the story Death in Tehran? I did not know it and now I know what means to be a toy of destiny.

 

From my Borstal.

LDR

 

Viktor Frankl.- El hombre en busca de sentido. CTE. Herder Editorial. Barcelona, 2015

 

      Mercedes Navarro´s paintings

     If he lived here and now, Mr Hopper would cross the Triana Bridge and, walking through San Jacinto to Alfareria to the right, would go up this emblematic street and would turn the corner to the left, at Procurador Street level.

     On that street, at number 19, he would have stayed long enough to remember the steps leading up to his 'Nighthawks', those four people close to each other but so distant from each other: the woman and the man closest to us seem to be using a mobile phone; the man next to the young woman has interrupted her chat at that very moment, because perhaps the waiter has asked him something. If you approach the painting, you will discover that they have other objects in their hands; mobile phones are a matter of today.

     Mr Hopper would stop at the first work in the room, the one that is just entering and to which our eyes are directed when passing the doorstep: there is his 'Night on the Train'. In this case, the woman has already reached her destination and no longer appears, while the man in the background — in Hopper's work portrayed in profile — in the Sala El Cachorro is almost on his back.

     The 'Automat', 'Office at Night', the doors of the Hopper Hotel, bay windows, lights and shadows, intimacy... Nostalgic, the introverted American would give a hint of a smile.

     Fran, I have had the satisfaction of meeting and talking a little with Mercedes Navarro and I dare to affirm that the delicacy in the treatment can be seen reflected in her paintings.

     The show runs until November 14^th.

 

     Y. a.

     Mary

 

     Spanish wild goat 

     Dear Fran,

     Pruna is a small municipality located in the Sierra Sur of Sevilla. It has a castle, already very damaged by the years, which is built on a large rock, which not long ago had some rough stairs made to be able to climb up to its walls. From its terrace you can see some beautiful landscapes of Grazalema, Ronda, Morón and especially the Peñón of Zaframagón, which is home to the largest colony of griffon vultures in Andalusia.

     It also has in its municipal area the highest level in the province: El Terril. As Godoy has told me, although this geological feature has always been there, it has not been until about a decade ago that people have decided to climb to its top. Globalization stuff, right?

     The Pruna City Council is doing its best to mark trails and prepare rest areas in the most picturesque places. This is the case of the Cascada, where yesterday afternoon, before dark, I spent a long time observing the wanderings of a mountain goat for more than an hour. Yes, a mountain goat that appeared silhouetted on the cliffs in front of where I was comfortably sitting. You already know that I usually carry small binoculars with me and thus I had the opportunity — despite the wind and the cloud of smoke that came from the imposing Sierra Bermeja fire — to contemplate a vulture, a Bonelli's eagle and a couple of kestrels.

  Fran, that goat surprised me a lot, but when I asked the employee of the petrol station what an animal like that was doing there, he told me that a few years ago they had released a few specimens around the castle and that it was not unusual to meet with some of them in the vicinity.

     Dear friend, I will tell you that discovering this small enclave has given me great satisfaction, even if it was by chance and lasted only one evening. I have yet to return one day and know more about its people and its streets.

     Y. a.

     Mary

 

      The illusion of pardon

     Dear Fran,

     I was looking forward to getting home to tell you what happened to me this morning in Carmona. But first I want to ask you if you have heard of 'the illusion of pardon'. A feeling by which the person sentenced to death waits until the last moment to be left alive.

     That happened to me for the first time fifty years ago... and this morning I felt it again. I tell you.

     I presented a painting (of which I do not have any photos to show you) to one of the Andalusian painting competitions and I dare say about Spain: the 'José Arpa'. After a while and seeing that they had already given the award to an excellent artist such as Ángel Alén and that I had not received any notification about my work, I assumed that they had not selected me. So, this morning I went to the palace where I delivered my Trabajos en la Ronda de la Alcazaba and when a very kind young woman came back from the warehouse she told me that the piece was not found there, that it was undoubtedly selected and she was surprised that I was to remove it. I explained to her what I have explained to you and she apologized while asking me where I came from; that if I came from far away. I reassured her by telling her that going to Carmona is always a pleasure for me and that I would take advantage of the rest of the morning walking through its streets.

     Fran, surely you wonder why I have told you about this illusion that the unfortunate people, who are going to die, have. Because three days ago I heard about that feeling and because when I came down the road to remove the paint I kept saying to myself: and if it is among the chosen ones and I have not received any information by mistake? 

     Y. a.

     Mary

 Man´s Search for Meaning (2)

The illusion of pardon  

It´s a feeling of consolation that those condemned to death develop before their execution. Wretched who conceive the hope that they will be pardoned at the last moment.

 Man´s Search for Meaning 

For Harry or Marion who haven't been born yet 

 

<< He could have developed logotherapy in America, thus fulfilling his life's mission, but he did not. He thus he arrived at Auschwitz. >>

 

 

     Beijar a terra  

 

Beijei a terra com os meus olhos, a minha

boca e os meus dedos

Enrolei-a a mim em círculos inumeráveis

E em contemplações intermináveis

Dissolvi-me nos seus segredos.

 

Sophia de Mello Breyner

 

      Works closed, not finished

     Dear Fran,

in your last email you asked me about the paintings that may, one day, be exhibited in Guillena.

 

Guillena´s postal cards

     Dear Fran,

     I have started to paint a series of pictures of a town called Guillena and its two small villages: Las Pajanosas and Torre de la Reina.

 

14746, 14747

     Dear Fran,

     This poignant story had me gripped with its sadness, both the murderers and Capote himself.

     The film, 2005, is directed by Bennett Miller and played by Philip Seymour Hoffman as the New Orleans writer, with Catherine Keener as the writer Harper Lee.

     Given the admiration, I would say fervour, that I feel for this man, when his name appeared on the television screen on a black background, I stayed glued to the armchair in my living room and didn´t blink for the next 114 minutes.

     Nothing to do with Breakfast at Tiffany´s, this film is a lancinating recreation of the life of the murderers, especially Perry Smith, and of the man who approached them.

     Fran, I really liked the photography, the music, the scenery, the costumes and the rate used by the film director in order to transport us to the early sixties of the last century.

     The actors have been immense in their roles and — if I have to refute something — it´s the treatment that in some moments they have given the protagonist´s height. There are shots where he appears much shorter than his friend Harper (apparently he was shorter than her) and others where he seems to have grown up; let´s not say when he´s next to Perry. All this will seem silly to you, but you know I keep 94 per cent of the details I see!

     To sum it, I will tell you that the title of de book seems to me the most accurate, because no one has the right to kill in cold blood: not Dick, not Perry, not the legal Kansas citizens.

     Y. a.

     Mary

 

Social distancing, fucking social distancing!

I´m ashamed of myself and, whether you are interested or not, I´m going to tell you why.

 

Guys who speak too loud 

“There´s no need to raise your voice here. You don´t have to convince anybody of anything, and you don´t have to attract anyone´s attention.”

Norwegian Wood

H Murakami

 

I also don't like those guys who talk too loud; they plonk under your window at any time and don´t care that the whole residential area listens to their conversation. I know one of those.

And I think then that it´s not that he lacks empathy, I mean my neighbour, but that he wants to attract attention and with his inflated spiel he is saying eh?, here I´m, listen to me, I'm the neighbour from the first D flat. I honestly deduce that these are small doses of complacency that he takes several times a day, seven days a week.

To cap it all off, his little sprog is following paternal paths, and he´s the child who roars the most in the yard from June to September, when the pool is active and from October to May when he´s waiting for it to be activated.

On the contrary, and as usually happens most of the time, the wife and mother — who has the right essence to be a saint — isn´t heard throughout the apartment block. Submissive, quiet and kind she seems to have chosen to compensate for the noise pollution emitted by her husband and son and assumes the vow of silence sworn by a Trappistine nun, supposing there are Trappistine nuns and they have to keep silent.

 

From my Borstal.

LDR

 

     Unduly harsh 

     Dear Fran,

 Plugged up. I have a mental block and I do not know how to get out of it. I have not been able to make a painting with which I feel satisfied for more than a month.

 

The tattooist of Auschwitz (VI)

The Tätowierer is moved to Block 31 and his job is to pile rocks from one place to another and then carry the same rocks back to where he picked them up. This is what a pal told me that he had to do when he joined the army! Only instead of stones, they were logs of wood. The idea is the same: keep the soldiers / prisoners busy, even if this requires chaining one stupidity after another.

Friendship. Chapter 21 is dedicated by the author to friends. Here you can see Cilka, Dana, Ivana, Leon ... and the affection they have between them and our partner.

At the same time, Lale push his luck again and barters diamonds for chocolate.

Living with the Romani reminds the Slovak of the relationship he had with his father. A relationship very similar to that of the oldest with children, the young and even the oldest women. Among the Romani of that death camp, Lale observes a certain emotional distancing, perhaps maintained by tradition, just as his father had with him.

We are already in chapter 23 and Heather Morris relates that a series of explosions take place in the Crematorium Four. What has caused them? Who? Word is spreading that the Russians are moving forward.

Is it true that the allies will finally liberate Auschwitz?

My dear friend, we already know from history that on January 27, 1945, Soviet troops entered that abominable place, but in order not to ruin the end of this interesting book, I am going to stop here. The remaining chapters (4), the epilogue, the postscript, and the additional information you will need to obtain on your own.

From my Borstal.

LDR

The tattooist of Auschwitz.- Morris, Heather.- Zaffre, London, 2018

 

The tattooist of Auschwitz (V) 

Chapter 15 is short and all of it is dedicated to the love affair of the two lovers. For a moment — after bribing the kapo of Block 29 — the couple abandon themselves to fate and make love as if there were no tomorrow. They don't mind being surprised by some soldier; they are so possessed by the burning desire to merge into one another that they ignore the slightest precautions. Do you know of those birds that sing and sing during heat and the hunter can reach the foot of the tree where they are perched without being seen?

 

The tattooist of Auschwitz (IV)

Herr Doktor Josef Mengele. It´s the first time that Lale Sokolov meets the Angel of Death. He came whistling and selecting 'patients' from the row that was getting tattooed.

 

The public gets what the public wants

The article has an illustration by Nathalie Lees where we can see a clown, with clear features of the Prime Minister, balancing on a huge viroid ball in the middle of a cemetery. I reckon it´s an image that perfectly synthesizes what many of us think about Boris Johson.

Esquivel

<< Mary, yesterday I went to Esquivel, which is another pueblo de colonización in the municipality of Alcalá del Río.

 

The tattooist of Auschwitz (III)

Heather Morris, the writer, pauses a few paragraphs to tell us about Gita's illness and how Black Mary, the cart of death, immediately appears in Lale's head; while she introduces us to Cilka, to whom her beauty goes beyond the surface, a virtue that is a rarity in most mortals.

 

The tattooist of Auschwitz (II)

Nor do I like books that boast on their cover with the strategy of being or having been a bestseller, emphasising as if it were a military medal achieved in the media and commercial struggle of sales. And with this I´m not saying, my friend, that all the books that have sold the most are crap.