Trafika Europe 6 - Arabesque

tahar ben jalloun

Depression came later, when I found myself alone in my large apartment. I asked my oldest son to live with me for a few days. He couldn’t because of work; he was making a film in Corsica. He called me often. On this occasion, I realized how tough loneliness could be. I started listening to opera. I had a pile of unwrapped CDs. My recovery passed by with music. There was sadness in the air. I was incapable of going back to my

work. I didn’t read any of the books that people had given me — detective fiction, so- called light reading. I became allergic to newspapers and informational magazines. It all seemed vain and unimportant; I felt diminished. But it wasn’t visible. In the end, it was only me who could know what brought me down. They removed my organ. There was nothing put in its place. A hole, wide open. Depression starts with this observation.

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