Searching for a piece about chess in my Residua, I stumbled upon something I had written in late March 2001. It was not what I was looking for, but I read it nonetheless. When I was finished, I went for the next piece in line. And the next. Until I came upon a few words about one of the last days in my mother’s life. She was in hospital already. I read it half way, but then I remembered what would come next. Taken aback, even mortified, I abandoned my search. In a few short days my mother would be dead. I could not read any more. It was beyond me. Quite by chance, I found myself in the middle of pain. I felt like sinking under its weight. Too much pain to bear more than a decade later. Will I ever be able to read the sequel? Will I ever have the guts to push all the way to the bitter end? Hard to tell, but it is quite possible that some parts of my Residua will forever remain out of my reach. Unreadable. Black holes in my own writing.

Addendum (August 31, 2015)

A bit less than four years after this piece was written, everything is still the same. Black holes in my own writing persist to this day. If anything changes over time, it may well change for the worse, but it is not very likely that I will ever touch Book XXVI with a light heart. Indeed, year 2001 will forever remain rather special for me. My mother died on April 1, my father followed her on July 20, and I almost went along with the two of them on July 24. The three dates are deeply intertwined in my mind. The first one is most difficult to bear, the last one the least, and the middle one is squarely in the middle, but they are all the same in terms of my sentiments. Black holes for true. Which reminds me of the Renaissance chest in my house where I keep all the memorabilia connected with my parents (“The Old Chest,” July 5, 2006). To the best of my recollection, it contains plenty of photographs, some drawings, sundry documents, and even a few pieces of jewelry. Chances are that I will never go through its contents, though. As far as black holes go, this one is perhaps the most formidable. By comparison, my Residua will remain a challenge till my last day. No matter how tough, it will call for an appropriate response. And in writing.