Oscar Scar

Yes, for me it's becoming a certainty, the irrelevance of the existence of a human creature. A friend came to see P., and I went to another room to look for a book, but I couldn't read so I took a pen to write something. I could hear P.'s voice whispering. They were chatting about something not very important, gossips: this person broke up with her boyfriend, this one is sick, very sick. "He got so thin he's scary" said one. "Yeah, I heard that" said the other. And I started imagining these people, their thinness, sickness, sadness...while I heard those two talking about them as if it were a tv series or something. As if they were talking about fictional characters, whose lives have been created just to serve us, and help us go through our frustrations, our fantasies. our pain.

I looked around the room and I saw P.'s and his girlfriend's clothes, their books. And I started thinking, 'who am I, now, in this house? They like you to be around, and sometimes you feel like you can't be without them. And yet, if you left now, if you detached yourself from them? Would they feel empty, and how long for?For how long?'

Human beings are so volatile they are destined to be forgotten everywhere, even there where they thought they'd left the only real impression of their existence, in the memory and soul of their loved ones. It all happens so quickly!