It first made me think of Kaspar H. again, of the sense of his short life. And of how I became an animal in less than two days.
In entered my sleeping room at night and the doorhandle fell off. No way to open the door from the inside, I tried during many hours. Of course my mobile was downstairs.
I wanted to escape, but how, the next house being about one mile away (I moved to this desolate place because I got tired of the noise in Brussels)? My boots and coats were downstairs. The only window was too high to get out, even with the help of the sheets of my bed tied together. Through the window you see fields and more fields, and a few trees. The air outside was icy, I had to wait for the morning. At dawn I started to scream for help, useless cause no one could hear me. Two friends have a key of the house, but they always first give a call, for they know I’m sometimes exposing myself to extreme aloneness. I slept a little, was glad I took a bottle of water with me, did not really suffer the first day, except for the desperate miaowing of my cat at the other side of the door.
The second night I felt very weak and hungry, and at dawn I started screaming for help once more, fiercely this time till my voice felt frozen. I paused, and started again “hello, hello” until all my strength was gone.
I heard myself howling like a wolf. In my exhaustion I suddenly thought “Is it not first through the voice that one becomes animal?” a quote of Deleuze that hit me, as I thought of lots of other things too long to expose here. Next to the window there is a huge mirror, and in the first daylight I looked at myself, wrapped in grey wool sweaters and sjawls, my hair wild. The eyes of an untamed animal looked at me. My image was standing there in that mirror, and it seemed to me that in merely 40 hours every trace of nearly as many years of human education had disappeared.