![Show Menu](styles/mobile-menu.png)
![Page Background](./../common/page-substrates/page0098.png)
Mircea Cartarescu
98
felt it as soon as I arrived.
I immediately perceived a
silence as pure as the white
of the snow, the silence
from before the appearance
of the ear, before the notion
of sound, sir. Or maybe the
silence from before the
creation of the world.”
He had bought a plot of
about five hundred square
meters, making sure that
the node was entirely
covered by its perimeter. He
had dug a deep wide hole
for the foundation of the
house and while doing so
he had discovered very old
ruins dating from the abyss
of history. Nicolae Borina
had laid his solenoid there,
in the pit of fresh clay. It had
cost him a fortune. It was a
nine metre diameter torus.
Sixteen layers of coils made
of five millimetre thick
copper wire were twisted on
a ferrite core in an incredibly
complicated structure with
alternations of direction
and orientation, calculated
in accordance with a
mysterious
numerology
system. This huge coil had
been
manufactured
in
Basel and brought into the
country on the railway by
special transport. It had
been transported at night
from the Filaret station
and secretly installed on a
foundation with hydraulic
cylinders and bearings in
the Maica Domnului hole,
depleted of the antique
vestiges which had been
carried to the Tei garbage
pit without too much fuss. A
concrete layer was poured
over the solenoid and the
house was built above.
My life had enoughmadness