Very quickly, as you can already imagine, to the morning papers were added those of the evening, books, magazines, leaflets, radio and television. But since there were many programs at once, even when there was slight or perhaps obvious interest in some rather than others, this situation could only be determined after the fact. Nothing could therefore be despised or ignored. There already existed video cassettes which made it possible to record simultaneous programs and, even when it was physically impossible to watch the other recorded programs, this, far from preventing its attempt or calling into question its validity, resulted on the other hand by an even more embittered insistence.

Automatic answering machines also arrived, whose capacity to receive messages filled up, which implied that they had to be erased so that they could continue to function. It was a great relief when new devicesarose which made it possible, if desired, to keep small cassettes with the day, the date and the messages, either erroneous or correct, which recorded the telephone flow of each day. This also caused problems,there was less and less time to answer the phone calls since you had to listen to the tape collections again,in case you might have missed something.

The most admirable of all this is that in the meantime, as best he could, he was working, loving and doing other things. I said admirable because it was obvious that the task he had before him was excessive - a task which was neither a requirement of his job nor of another nature than simply what we can call an imposed task. . We still think that, if this exercise in accuracy had not been accomplished, something terrible would have been triggered which we do not know, perhaps of such a nature that as a result of its unleashing it would have caused an anguish impossible to support.

When I finally finished waking up, I said to myself: "It is the real which becomes reality or the reality which becomes real". I was inclined to conceptualize the first case as this fantasy covering that covers the real and the second case as this crucial moment when the fantasy covering dissolves and reality becomes real.

I stood aside, as they say, and drew my conclusions. But was it actually schizophrenia? You could say thatwas obvious from the start and certainly I would agree. But by what we know in physics as the personal equation, in aesthetics as taste and in the psychoanalytical act as style, then I say for the singularity in question, that the answer can only be useful to me in the field of our activity if I manage to find, between what presents itself and what is apparently obvious in his answer, his singular bridge. The motives which are never scanty to calm anxiety with meaning may well have reasons, may well identify with the unconscious, but the cause which is known to be empty is clearly differentiated from it. It is exactly because of everything that has been said so far that this is not schizophrenia, but a singular schizophrenia.

I had not been able to solve the problem for two years although, as you have already guessed, I had, so to speak, the two ends of the answer. The bridge I missed resembled what you know of the spider which, as itspins its thread, strengthens the structure that supports it as it moves forward. The bridge that I lacked was that of my step, as we say, devoid of edge, from one surface to another.

For this step that I have described to be possible, something more was missing where the tyche and the moment of conclusion would not be absent. This was given to me by reading two tales.

The first, a story that moved me too much for all the truth that inhabited it to escape me. I refer to this beautiful story: Acerca de Roderer (About Roderer) by Guillermo Martínez, where the character says: "The real offense to God consists in knowledge" - that is, in the madness of take his place. But what is even more important, the so-called knowledge is the cancellation of knowledge as that which maintains the distance between the subject ($) and the truth. Knowledge is exactly what we are warned about since psychoanalysis just by the distance that knowledge (S 2 ) interposes us.

The second tale, Who knows? , this mind-blowing story by Guy de Maupassant which constitutes the end ofL'useless beauté. In this story, Maupassant tells us how a solitary and misanthropic individual returns home one day after a the ater performance and suddenly feels uneasy, as if he were afraid. Approaching the house, he hears the hum of trains buzzing nearby. When he manages to overcome his apprehension, he opens the door and, terrified, sees all the furniture and smaller objects coming out of his house. He then listens to the sound of doors closing as the house empties completely. He runs away and goes to spend thenight in a hotel. He is examined by several doctors who prescribe a trip to him in order to forget.

Some time later, he goes to Rouen and finds some of his furniture there at a second-hand dealer. He decides to buy them and the next day he returns to the shop with the police. Of course, the next day neither the second-hand goods dealer nor the furniture are there and the police begin to have doubts. The most sinister thing is that a week later he receives a letter from his gardener letting him know that all his belongings have returned home as mysteriously as they had disappeared, that everything is as before and awaits him, that the house is exactly the same as it was then. It was then that he decided not to return and that he was going to be interned in an asylum. Once there, he alarm of his safety because who can guarantee that the burglar who stole his goods cannot possibly go mad, end up in the same asylum and find him there? To this end, he summons his double, this herald who does not bode well.