2666

by Roberto Bolaño

Walking aimlessly, but enjoying the night and the country smells, he came to the front entrance, a big wooden door that didn’t latch tightly and that anyone could force. To one side he discovered a sign he hadn’t seen when he arrived with the essayist. In small, dark letters, the sign said MERCIER CLINIC. REST HOME — NEUROLOGICAL CENTER. Without surprise he understood at once that the essayist had brought him to a mental asylum. After a while he returned to the house and went up the stairs to his room, where he retrieved his suitcase and laptop. Before he left he wanted to see the essayist. After he knocked and received no reply, he entered the room. The essayist was fast asleep, with all the lights off, although light from the front door came in the window, through the parted curtains. The bedclothes were hardly rumpled. The essayist looked like a cigarette covered with a handkerchief. He’s so old, thought Archimboldi. Then he left without a sound and as he crossed the garden again he thought he saw a man in white running full speed along one side of the property and ducking behind tree trunks on the edge of the forest.