Episode 1

"And what's your name?"

"Wait, it's on the tip of my tounge."

That is how it all began.

I felt as if I had awoken froma long sleep, and yet i was still suspended in the milky gray. Or else I was not awake, but dreaming. It was a strange dream, void of images, crowded with sounds. As if I could not see, but could hear voices that were telling me what I should have been seeing. And they were telling me that I could not see anything yet, only a haziness along the canals where the land-scape dissolved. Bruges, I said to myself, I was in Bruges. Had I ever been Bruges the Dead? A Gray city, sad as a tombstone with Chrysanthemums, where mist hangs over the facades like a tapestries...

My soul was wiping the streetcar windows so it could be drown in the moving fog of the headlamps. Fog, my uncontaminated sister.... A thick, opaque fig, which enveloped the noises and called up the shapeless phantoms.... Finally I came to a vast chasm and could see the colossal figures, wrapped in a shroud, it's face the immaculate whiteness of snow. My name is Artur Gordon Pym.

I was chewing fog. Phantoms were passings, brushing me, melting. Distance bulbs glimmered like will-o-the-wips in a graveyard....

someone is walking by my side, noiselessly, as if in bare feet, walking wihtout shoes, without sandals. A patch of fog grazes my cheeks, a band of drunks is showing down there, down by the ferry. The ferry? It is not me talking, it is the voices.

The fog comes on little cat feet... There was a fog that seemed to have taken the world away.

Yet every so often it was as if I had opened my eyes and we're seeing flashes. I could hear voices: "Strictly speaking, Signora, it isn't a coma.... No, Don't think about flat encephalograms, for heaven's sake... There's reactivity...."

Someone was aiming a light into my eyes, but after the light it was dark again. I could feel the puncture of a needle, somewhere. "You see, there's withdrawal..."

Maigrat plunges into a fog so dense that he can't even see where he's stepping... The fog teems with human shapes, swarms with an intense, mysterious life. Maigrat? Elementary, my dear Watson, there are ten little Indians, and the hound of the Baskervilles vanish into the fog.

The gray vapour was gradually losing its grayness of tint, the heat of the water was extreme, and it's milky hue was evident that ever...And now we rushed into the embraces of the cataract, where a chasm threw itself open to receive us.

I heard people talking around me, wanted to shout to let them know I was there. There was a continuous drone, as thought I were being devoured by celibate machines with whetted teeth. I was in the penal colony..I felt a wieght on my head, as if they had slipped the iron mask onto my face. I thought I saw Sky blue lights.

"There's asymmetry of the pupillary diameters."

I had fragments of thoughts, clearly I was waking up, but I could not move. If only I could stay awake. Was sleeping again?

Hours,days, centuries?

The fog was back, the voices in the fog, the voices about the fog. कोहरे में घूमना अजीब है! What language is that? I seemed to be swimming in the sea, I felt I was near the beach but was unable to reach it . No one saw me, and the tide was carrying me away again.

Please tell me something, Please touch me. I flet a hand on my forehead. such relief.Another voice: "Signora, there are cases of paitents who suddenly wake up and walk away under their own Power."

Someone was disturbing me with an intermittent light, with the hum of a tuning fork. It was as if they had put a jar of mustard under my nose, then a clove of garlic . The earth has a odor of mushrooms.

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