Читать книгу One, None and a Hundred-thousand - Luigi Pirandello - Страница 19

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It may appear to you that all this talk about the house has nothing to do with the case, for the reason that you now see your house as it is, among the others that go to make up the town. You see about you your furnishings, those which you, in accordance with your taste and your means, have seen fit to acquire for your convenience. And they exhale about you a dear, familiar comfort, animated as they are by all your memories; they are no longer objects, but, in a manner, intimate parts of yourself, in which you can touch and feel what impresses you as being the assured reality of your existence. Whether they be of beech, of walnut or of fir, your furnishings, embodying the memories of your fireside intimacy, are impregnated with the special atmosphere that lingers in every house, and which gives to our lives something that is almost an odor, one that makes itself felt all the more strongly at a distance; which is to say, that no sooner do we enter another house than we are at once aware of a different atmosphere.

It annoys you, I can see, my having called you back to the beeches, the walnuts and the mountain firs. It is as if you already were becoming a trifle infected with my madness, since at everything I tell you, your face at once clouds as you inquire, "Why? What does that have to do with it?"