It would be easier to me to conceal to me. In fact, it is what I had decided of long date: my history was before all my history; my peregrinations with Satprem were the fruit of a destiny which I asserted like personnel and private - a whole way traversed which led me, as a single individual, towards a goal which was clean for me, and which did not concern anybody other but me.
But the death of Patrice changed gives it.
When I learned the death from Patrice in last July - then that it had thrown sixth stage from his building in Paris - I felt that this loss was my loss, that its disappearance affected my intimate world in a too essential way to have overlooked. It could be a question of a fact various only one classifies in the oubliettes. “The small” Patrice - that I had known almost thirty years earlier, with Aspiration, any expenses arrived of France, the enlightened face permanently of a smile vaguely goguenard, and who had to some extent followed my traces at Satprem - whose body lay now in the dustbins in bottom of its building, with for only epitaph three lines final of Sujata and the lead silence of Satprem…
When I learned the death from Patrice in last July - then that it had thrown sixth stage from his building in Paris - I felt that this loss was my loss, that its disappearance affected my intimate world in a too essential way to have overlooked. It could be a question of a fact various only one classifies in the oubliettes. “The small” Patrice - that I had known almost thirty years earlier, with Aspiration, any expenses arrived of France, the enlightened face permanently of a smile vaguely goguenard, and who had to some extent followed my traces at Satprem - whose body lay now in the dustbins in bottom of its building, with for only epitaph three lines final of Sujata and the lead silence of Satprem…
A limit had been crossed with this death, a point of no return which challenged me directly and forced me to leave my cuttings off. And all the rationalizations of the world would change nothing there: the stories of the “karma of Patrice” or the “fault” of Patrice were not enough to alleviate this painful point in me.
Patrice, it is with you that I deny these lines. Even if nobody includes/understands anything with your suicide. Me, I know the torments which attacked you, and which ended up being right of you - because the same torments failed well to carry me too. Continuation: The cage
Jai Aurobindo ! Celui que nous avons vu aujourd’hui est sur terre. . . Blog La fin de l’Illusion Le commentaire de Boni End of the Subpages Illusion Patrice The cage The Diary Satprem The tragedy America The hammer rammer Faintness First turn of screw In obvious offence Violence The water drop The explosion Eclaicissements and assessment Back to end of the Illusion
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