Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • "The Thorn twins had changed the definition of classical dementia, by the book. The entire case history of the Siamese twins was a chronicle of facts and precognitions. Nothing very original: the first was pierced, and the second bled, one had his bones hammered and the other one lost a copious amount of serum from his pulp cartilage, whilst torturing the skin of one, an ecchymosis bloomed on the other brother. The first saw a number and the second, locked in the adjacent room, solved to the telepathic riddle. If a twin suffered from something, his brother groaned. Living side by side, the two used to dress in the same clothes. Useless and boring beings , the medical staff didn't care to distinguish them at all. Male gender, ordinary face, hair, eyes, nothing special but one exception: one was fatally insane, whereas the other one was totally clear-headed. At first this difference aroused the doctors' curiosity who had stopped considering it a simulation after a long time. Childish games! The twins have their own pleasures. The two brothers used to exchange insanity and holiness. Sometimes one was the loony, then he turned back sane, then the other one did the contrary.

    The Thorns were satisfied with the institute's healthy air. Though from the sane half a deep depression occasionally shone. On the contrary the demented one drooled on his hands' palms as he laughed. Placed in front of the mirror the fool keeps his twisted stare. A clear-headed man can't hold his crippled image's sight, his face contracted with delirium. Without recognizing himself he withers away. An abyss!

    One of the twins probably plotted the escape. They started corresponding eachother. The one who was temporarily sane wrote, knowing that in a short time or the following day he would be plunged into dementia, and then when the twin came to his senses he would find the letter, move and quickly reply. Always together, the twins had never known eachother directly. Even since they were children: they left some messages, trying to get over the idiocy that overwhelmed them. The two demented parts sought contact, they didn't have any priority, they were always up to mischief. Where there was a scrape, there was the anguished physiognomy of the mortified twin.

    How to be aware of oneself with the full intellect's faculty and be absent at the same time? Letters were written in one go, quickly. Sometimes a conscious sentence was lost in the froth , continuing meaningless lines. An unbearable sorrow.

    How to escape? How to leave the other one? Even insane people are basically like children."



    I gemelli Thorn avevano variato una demenza classica, da manuale. La casistica dei siamesi era tutta un susseguirsi di fatti e precognizioni. Nulla di originale: infilzavano il primo, il secondo sanguinava, martellavano le ossa a uno e l’altro rilasciava un copioso siero dalle cartilagini in poltiglia, martoriando la pelle, nel fratello fioriva un’ecchimosi. Il primo vedeva un numero e il secondo, chiuso a chiave nella stanza accanto, sbrigava l’impiccio telepatico. Un gemello pativa qualcosa, il fratello gemeva. Vivendo gomito a gomito, i due tendevano a vestirsi con le stesse cose. Esseri inutili e noiosi, il personale medico non teneva affatto a distinguerli. Sesso maschile, viso comune, capelli, occhi, nulla di particolare salvo un’eccezione: uno era irrimediabilmente demente, mentre l’altro del tutto lucido. In un primo momento questa difformità aveva incuriosito i dottori che alla lunga avevano finito di ritenerla una simulazione. Giochi infantili! I gemelli hanno divertimenti tutti loro. I due fratelli si scambiavano follia e santità. Qualche volta uno era il matto, poi ridiventava savio, e l’altro il contrario.

    I Thorn erano soddisfatti dell’aria salubre dell’istituto. Dalla metà lucida ogni tanto traspariva un profondo sconforto. Il demente invece sbavava sul palmo delle mani, rideva.
    Posto davanti allo specchio il mentecatto continua ancora col suo sguardo torto. Un uomo lucido non regge la propria immagine storpiata, il viso contratto dal delirio. Non riconoscendosi viene meno a sé stesso. Un abisso!
    Uno dei gemelli probabilmente meditava la fuga. Cominciarono un rapporto epistolare. Quello momentaneamente lucido scriveva, sapendo che a breve o dopo un giorno sarebbe piombato nella demenza, e allora il gemello rinsavito avrebbe trovato la lettera, commosso e pronto a rispondergli. Sempre insieme, i due gemelli non si erano mai conosciuti direttamente. Anche da bambini: lasciavano messaggi, cercando di scavalcare l’idiozia che li cavalcava. Anche le due parti dementi cercavano un contatto, non avevano priorità, ne combinavano di tutti i colori. Lì dove c’era un qualche pasticcio, ecco accanto la fisionomia sgomenta del gemello mortificato.
    Come poter essere presenti a sé stessi con l’intera facoltà dell’intelletto e allo stesso tempo esserne assenti? Le lettere erano scritte di getto, velocemente. Talvolta una frase consapevole si perdeva nella bava, continuando linee senza senso. Un dolore insopportabile.
    Come fuggire? Come lasciare l’altro? Anche i dementi, in fondo sono come bambini.




    Text, music and drawings by Andrea Kantos
    Trad. Alessandra Russo
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.