The Last Supper
136. I'm sitting at a table. The table is so long that I can not see nor hear the person sitting at the other end of the table. I immediately thought, for some reason, that the goal is to eat and still believe that sooner or later comes the first dish. I do not know who my diner on the other end of the table, or rather not I invited the diner. I could not determine why I can not remember which house they are. Strictly I could not even say it's a lunch. Could be an interview. It seems certain that there must be someone at the end of the table. But is it really safe? Who can guarantee it? And if there is none? A bizarre idea for a moment I seduces: it is a last supper? And if it was just my mood this predisposition certainty of being with someone? This may be a party to a hearing. Maybe they are inside a prison? Yes but why should I not see with whom I speak? Perhaps the nature of the person with whom I speak is too superior to mine? And I is not given to see it? To contemplate? Possible can be a conversation with my guardian angel? With my judge? Or with St. Peter at the gates of heaven? It may be that even God himself? This last conclusion seems very unlikely and narcissistic, because God himself should speak to me? With me being a meaningless without faith and full of sins, defects! And who says that God exists? It could be Satan? Or a distant emissary? But perhaps even Satan does not exist. Yes, good and evil, all right, but because they think of Good or Evil? It could be that my partner is not part of human culture, or even being part may be that for him the terms good and evil are completely meaningless. The categories may be just and ingiusto, oppure bello e brutto, o alto e basso, o maschio e femmina, o pari e dispari, o buio e luminoso, o sostanza e accidente, o necessario e contingente, assoluto e relativo, o uno e due, finito e infinito, o qualsiasi altra cosa non pensabile dalla mente umana. Un extraterrestre? Potrebbe anche trattarsi di una cosa sola, di un’entità che non ha distinzione perché tutto ingloba. O con la distinzione ma dentro una unità. Può darsi infatti che tutti gli universi facciano parte di un solo organismo. Tornando alla stanza e al tavolo, non riesco nemmeno a stabilire se siamo di giorno o di notte, di mattina o di pomeriggio. Infatti sul lungo tavolo di legno c’è una luce diffusa un po’ cerulea, tenue; tale da can be either a light of dawn, is a twilight, and a moonlight or light consumptive one of those gray winter days. Even a blue neon light of a mortuary. And, conversely, it could even be a light summer's dog days, except that the table may not be close to an opening directly outside. Yes, yes, I see a large window with glass, but who tells me that it does not turn into another room with another window? I can not see out of here and a diaphanous shadow covers me in all directions. However if it is with someone - which is not that part of my suggestion -: What should this tell me qualcuno? O cosa dovrei dire io a lui? Chi ha convocato chi e per dire cosa? Meglio stare zitto e aspettare gli eventi. Ma fino a che punto mi conviene questa tattica? Magari sarebbe più semplice alzarmi e andarmene. E se davvero al capo del tavolo ci fosse Dio io che faccio mi alzo e me ne vado voltando le spalle a Dio? Ma poi andare dove? Non può essere invece proprio che tutto il mio cammino sia stato volto a questo tavolo, a questo incontro? Che tutta la mia esistenza e perfino tutto il karma delle mie esistenze presenti passate e future non preveda questo? E se mi alzo non lo torni a prevedere magari fra centinaia e centinaia di esistenze? Infatti ho una sensazione fortissima di déjà vu. Ecco, rifletto, il perché del mio dèjà vu: if I get up I'm sure I'll be back sooner or later - and perhaps not the first time that I live - to live this moment exactly how at this moment. I rather suspect that you can not physically get up. Better not try. I still have to assess carefully before you get up or stay, I would not make a choice inconclusive. But then why go on? I do not remember why I came here and after all this could be my home. I do not remember if I came here or if I've been here, without all eternity. I do not know where to go and if I came here to say that this place should reveal something. It 's a very old wooden table, full of scratches and worn with some holes confirming the presence of termites. And 'obviously an old table and this table have supported many hands, elbows, ate, drank. I turn around, all over the house hovers like a mist, and I see no other furniture except for a long pendulum wall clock whose face seems to emerge from the fog of a railway station. It 'an ancient clock. The pendulum continues to swing slow and solemn, but one of the big hands is uprooted and fallen behind curved glass screen, and apparently has never been adjusted. It 's the hour hand and it is impossible to determine the time. The large glass windows are now clouded and streaked with rain. Tinkle. It would seem therefore to conclude that take a bow out and that it's raining outside, but I would not be able to establish with certainty that either. In fact I said that in the room hangs a mist from my place and I can not determine whether the drops are inside or outside the glass. In any case I consider inappropriate at this time to get up to go and check. The clinking of glasses could also be given even by some sound vibration inside. The large window could give to another large room or in a cloister. Although it is very remote that someone builds a large window that gives just in another room, yet it is not excluded altogether. It could also be that the house will be expanded later to other accretions and other rooms and that the large window has been left where it was. Everything is important to consider and nothing ruled out. The presence of fog in the great room could be due to moisture, to temperature changes, steaming some kitchen is not far away. So just to be in this house, sitting on a long table in a room shrouded in mist. I think with a shudder at the possibility that I am actually dead and that I am here as a territory in the middle waiting for my destination in the afterlife. It may be that my destination of the afterlife really is just this, that is to sit at this table for eternity and continue to think about infinity. Maybe I should essere io il primo a profferire parola? Magari per vedere se c’è qualcuno nell’altro capo del tavolo. Veramente un eventuale silenzio di risposta non dimostrerebbe che non ci sia nessuno ma solo che se anche c’è qualcuno questo qualcuno non mi risponde. Magari ritenendo inopportuna la mia impazienza e la mia insolenza. Mi conviene cercare di resistere quanto più possibile ed aspettare in silenzio. Una sentenza del tao dice: “Chi sa non parla, chi parla non sa”. Così resto in silenzio, anche se il mio silenzio non significa che io sappia qualcosa, perché, come ho detto, non so assolutamente nulla. Nondimeno aspetto e valuto. Certo ogni soluzione è rischiosa e anche non parlare e non fare nulla, benché is the least risky. In fact it may be that those on the other side - provided there is - a word from me is sitting issues and the fact remains that I can damage my inane situation. It may be that I have a serious fault and that's about me going to a conviction or acquittal. So I have to defend myself or I could be ordered immediately with the aggravating circumstance of sloth or dell'ignavia for my silence. But to defend myself from what? It is not equivalent to defend myself to admit to being accused of a crime? The defense, however, having no evidence of any kind, is the right thing to do, and the best defense involves not make the first move. Yes, I just defend myself: wait and respond with counter-moves. In fact, without knowing the opponent's attack, strength, amount to a reckless move that could only lead to a more likely defeat. I begin to inspect the table. Its surface is antiquated, as I said, full of scratches. I see that there are some signs that seem to parallel bars, as when in prison is hard to navigate mark the day by digging furrows in the wall with a bit dark. So I think that others before me have passed from this table. And they waited - as I do not speak or stand up - days and even months. In fact, there are many bars, provided that their meaning is this. Maybe they are just stray marks instead of a table randomly marked by time. Of what crime you can accuse me? Of course living I made so many mistakes. But the mistakes are sins? And even if they blame the fault can be avoided? Who decides guilt? Errors made them ourselves, and ourselves the guilt on the basis of our opinion? Or do I think that there is a higher court and objective? A supreme court? Living've made serious mistakes, I was cowardly, hypocritical, relapsed, unfaithful, barely human, a little generous, selfish, gossip. I also know and judge me based on my own values. Sure maybe I combined some good things, I think I was sensitive, thoughtful, deep, but I almost never put into practice my beliefs and my intuition. As a strong tree that however, has not been good. Maybe my opinion is too hard, but who has lived a normal life like all others with its ups and its downs. It may be that the best fruit of this tree of life are precisely the doubts and contradictions. But then I speak to the past as if I had died and I had to really be accountable to someone in the balance of my life? Part of me thinks that every day I should imagine that at this point, every day of my life, and thus to act with due firmness. Now I do not know what to do. Every day when I thought I would change my life and be more profound and authentic postponed forever. Now I realize I have already delayed until there was nothing more to do, having wasted my life in the everyday life of no choices. And I find myself as always groped to drive even the evidence of this. I hope in fact that I can still wake up and discover that he had a nightmare. I do pinch very strong inside the left thigh under the table. I do not wake. I can not resist cold and less to keep me not to talk and not get up. However I'm not pinching spirit otherwise I would not hurt. I still have a body? Or after death remains the ability to relate to a body and feel pain or pleasure as if the body was still there? I have heard of disabled veterans who still feel that pain in the longer. But what is the difference between dead and alive? And between waking and dreaming? I wonder then if the trial and the guilty must necessarily relate to good and evil done in life. And if there was any bias at all? And if we were tuned to good and evil only in our own way of thinking desired by the dominant power to regiment the conscience? However, I always head back to the table as associated with food. And - as I said before - if she really was the last supper table? And I was Judas himself back at the table to settle with the question of whether Jesus Christ was from eternity destined to betray him? If I could have chosen? If in fact I was not a chosen one destined to be sacrificed for the most thankless task, arduous and noble as the betrayal of Christ? I wonder if you can choose to sin or if you are predestined to sin, if Judas was predestined before birth or was chosen for his merits in the great task of betraying. But then if there is eternity, the eternal truth that does not mean that the larger mission of truth is to betray the truth? Whether that is undermining this dictatorial immobility called eternity? Satan, then, was a seeker of truth? Betrayal also does not verify that there is just one truth? If you do not betray the truth as can be determined? Can be no truth without the necessity of falsehood? You can arrive at the truth, to his knowledge, without passing by the knowledge of falsity? How could it stand? As the truth could be the end if we were not in falsehood? So it could still be the Last Supper between Christ and me? Between me and God? After all, we sit at a dining table? But maybe this is a dinner date and maybe all these problems are just anxious torments without the sense of a hypochondriac. Maybe now materializes a woman in silky veils that performs in a sexy belly dance, who knows. I enjoy this atmosphere and this fog suspended. Possibly a thunderstorm rages outside. Every now and then the windows will illuminate bluish glow. Drops falling from high ceiling of the room and create a sort of amplification as polyphonic inside a cave. There is no cold, indeed, it seems that a certain warmth radiate from somewhere. It is not unlikely that a fireplace is hosting a fire. The clock continues to be broken and foggy and I wait, wait without getting tired. Gone are the days and nights. I can not understand how much we're sitting at the table to wait. Maybe a minute, maybe a year, maybe a lifetime, perhaps forever. It 'possible that those who had to come has come and is gone without my having seen. It 's true I did not hear any sound relevant, but this does not prove anything. The table is so long that I can not infer how long the room and at a distance certainly does not feel any footsteps. And if I were underground? Inside the coffin? And if the wood is the inner cover of the coffin and the rest is just imagining it? But that gloomy thoughts! I prefer to think more. Now I'm going to wipe all the kisses I gave in my life. But I have to consider the situation less advantageous to me, so you do not find me unprepared for having to deal with. But here I feel at last the sound of footsteps. A shadow looms behind the glass and goes to an opening in front of me. Here I hear a distant door creak on its hinges. The steps are now locked in the room. You stand there with a sound much more pronounced. Shadow shapeless silhouette is defined by a blank face, which stops right in front of me I stand staring at me. I realize that I have the same shape.
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