The Necrophiliac by Gabrielle Wittkop

Author:Gabrielle Wittkop [Wittkop, Gabrielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2011-02-01T13:00:00+00:00

July 24, 19...

I am strarting to miss my Ivry virgin, my living-dead woman whose palpitating flesh knew how to surround mine and inhale my substance. Something that isn’t encountered twice in life, nor twice in death . . . Melancholy over not even knowing her name. Magic that escapes from me. Nevermore.

I didn’t appreciate that woman enough.

Was I ironic — behaving with the sort of irony that’s nothing more than the bad coat of the shameful poor? Did I forget — to forget is to omit from feeling again, it’s a folly of the soul and the body — did I then forget that I fall in love each time? One day, by chance, I was walking behind two German students and I heard one say to the other, “Denn jedesmal, verliebe ich mich heillos . . .” I could have said the same was true for me. Ich auch, leider, ich auch . . . The truth is that I was cowardly enough to blush to myself over the unusual moustached virgin, over my Kirghiz princess with the retractile, recitative vagina. Of course I loved her . . . Unless certain words shouldn’t be used, for it seems that the necrophiliac, as he’s presented in the twilight of the popular imagination, doesn’t have the right to claim them.

Otherwise, a nice episode a few days ago. A Petit mort pour rire, around eighteen or twenty years old, alas quite demolished by an accident. But serene, fraternal. A friend I call “Peachskin,” even though he had another name and the peach skin in question, far from being his, was merely a vehicular adjuvant.

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