DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27180#0023
THE SUN
and a successful operation has restored to me the precious
gift of heaven. In that case it was only by the merest chance
that I didn’t break my neck or go crazy in the very first
moment of recovery.
I am not exaggerating. Remember how Dilrer went on
about the sun in Venice. The sun in Venice - good gracious!
A tolerable pretence at a sun, I daresay; but I’m not surprised
that it left a lump of ice inside him large enough to remind
him how he longed for sunshine, even while he was actually
enjoying it. He never had the chance of abandoning himself
to the sun.
Babuschka thinks the light is more beautiful here than
it is at home: which is slightly illogical, even a trifle comic.
Different, if you like; everything is different - the earth, the
human beings, the animals, the atmosphere. Whether one
prefers the Egyptian cattle, with their expressionistic
structure and their pointed heads pushed forward, to
Holsteins, is a matter of temperament and taste and signifies
nothing. In appearance they are completely different
creatures; and though they may answer much the same
purpose, their symbolic aspects are worlds apart. No
Egyptian would ever call a stupid person a cow; at least I
can’t imagine his doing so. I can imagine any sort of beauty
here; the only thing I can’t imagine, my notions being what
they are, is the possibility that I could ever freeze again after
this sunshine, for that implies an intimacy which I cannot
conceive and which I do not even find desirable.
Naturally I am capable of making such a supposition;
and like any rational creature I shall eventually make it and
learn to reckon with anything under the sun. I shall grow
acclimatized and finally succeed in making light of the
miracle and talk of something else. The prospect is not
particularly tempting, although my present condition betrays
all the awkward symptoms of change.
My general well-being follows suit. To some extent I
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and a successful operation has restored to me the precious
gift of heaven. In that case it was only by the merest chance
that I didn’t break my neck or go crazy in the very first
moment of recovery.
I am not exaggerating. Remember how Dilrer went on
about the sun in Venice. The sun in Venice - good gracious!
A tolerable pretence at a sun, I daresay; but I’m not surprised
that it left a lump of ice inside him large enough to remind
him how he longed for sunshine, even while he was actually
enjoying it. He never had the chance of abandoning himself
to the sun.
Babuschka thinks the light is more beautiful here than
it is at home: which is slightly illogical, even a trifle comic.
Different, if you like; everything is different - the earth, the
human beings, the animals, the atmosphere. Whether one
prefers the Egyptian cattle, with their expressionistic
structure and their pointed heads pushed forward, to
Holsteins, is a matter of temperament and taste and signifies
nothing. In appearance they are completely different
creatures; and though they may answer much the same
purpose, their symbolic aspects are worlds apart. No
Egyptian would ever call a stupid person a cow; at least I
can’t imagine his doing so. I can imagine any sort of beauty
here; the only thing I can’t imagine, my notions being what
they are, is the possibility that I could ever freeze again after
this sunshine, for that implies an intimacy which I cannot
conceive and which I do not even find desirable.
Naturally I am capable of making such a supposition;
and like any rational creature I shall eventually make it and
learn to reckon with anything under the sun. I shall grow
acclimatized and finally succeed in making light of the
miracle and talk of something else. The prospect is not
particularly tempting, although my present condition betrays
all the awkward symptoms of change.
My general well-being follows suit. To some extent I
e 17