When my father died, a facet of me died, a facet of me was
deactivated and could not be activated again. There was a speaker who only
lived when he spoke to my father, and a listener who only lived when my father
spoke to him, and forms of speech that passed between us now long dead and
buried. My mother thinks she knows me, she thinks the visible bit she knows is
the same as the bit she doesn't. In fact, she only knows the facet that is
actualised by her, the facet that flickers into life when the two of us speak.
The facet she knows lives only in this interval between us, and will die when
she dies or I die. Each significant person, each significant object
in our lives activates a different facet, and we are nothing but a
multitude of facets, activated by different people, objects and places at
different times. Other facets will never surface, will not be activated,
because we never encounter the objects and people that would activate them.
They await vainly for the person or object that would activate them, these
facets, these so called facets, but it never happens. Perhaps some of our most
remarkable facets never even exist.
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