A fractal book about a fractal city. You discover the fractal if you know how to look for it. Once you discover it, it's gone, for, like the city, theA fractal book about a fractal city. You discover the fractal if you know how to look for it. Once you discover it, it's gone, for, like the city, the book is slowly evolving; it's the memory, the desire, the signs; then the desire, the signs, the memory; ultimately, the names, the dead, the sky. A tide of many cities that area past faces of one, Venice, which we'll only see in the future.
In Ersilia, to establish the relationships that sustain the city's life, the inhabitants stretch strings from the corners of the houses, white or black or gray or black-and-white according to whether they mark a relationship of blood, trade, authority, agency. When the strings become so numerous that you can no longer pass among them, the inhabitants leave: the houses are dismantled; only the strings and their supports remain.
I thought: "If Adelma is a city I am seeing in a dream, where you encounter only the dead, the dream frightens me. If Adelma is a real city, inhabited by living people, I need only continue looking at them and the resemblances will dissolve, alien faces will appear, bearing anguish. In either case it is best for me not to insist on staring at them."
Ignoring the objects' variety of form, he could grasp the system of arranging one with respect to the others on the majolica floor. He thought: "If each city is like a game of chess, the day when I have learned the rules, I shall finally possess my empire, even if I shall never succeed in knowing all the cities it contains."
If you ask, "Why is Thekla's construction taking such a long time?" the inhabitants continue hoisting sacks, lowering leaded strings, moving long brushes up and down, as they answer, "So that its destruction cannot begin."
And another ... And another ... And another ...
A beautiful mixture of words forming images, colors, smells, and pleasure. Just not a real story, or a book.