… as I was saying, letters started arriving. No — voices — they arrived in the form of voices, even if he saw them as written, he could read each and every one of them written in the air, all with different handwriting, because each voice had its own handwriting, the timbre of the writing, each had its own tone, its own inflection, the color of the voice sending the letter. Doctor Ziegler had told him this sort of thing sometimes happened … sounds turned to colors, a type of aura … even the ink varied in color, with all shades of the color spectrum, mostly black, but also white on black sometimes, and yellows, and oranges like a summer sunset … reds … a few blues … a great many greens, all kinds of green, bottle-green, flag-green, Verona-green, and especially blister-green verging on brownish yellow. That green entered his auricle like a hiss, a green carried by the sound of sssssssssss … hissing, snaking letters, the green whistling in his ears turning magically bitter on his tongue, like chewing on a thistle. He called that green bitter-green. And he received numerous letters every day, ten, twenty, more, even at night, he’d finally fall asleep, after a great deal of effort, he might not even dream, he’d turn off like a radio turned off, no reception … actually he fooled himself into thinking he’d shut off all contact, over and out, but no, he might be over but he wasn’t out … the thing would start with a sizzle, I’m not sure how to describe it, like when you twist the radio dial and there’s a crackling, and he’d wake up, hoist his head off the pillows, frozen in the dark room, a letter was arriving, that strange mailman was ringing, the doorbell insisting, sizzling in the dark, as though they’d laid his ear on a red-hot grill, shssss shssss shssss, and they weren’t all written in black or bitter-green ink, maybe some were in blue, even a sky blue, a blur of childhood and lost memories … Dear Ninototo, you scratched Ninototo Ninototo all over the walls of the stable with a piece of coal, and I found that amusing, because no one taught you how to write, so you learned it on your own, but this morning, I found this same writing on the wall to the farm, and along with it, words I never heard you say, and I had to call Amilcare, and it took two buckets of lime to cover all that writing, all those words, my dear boy, you mustn’t write these things, because they shock peasants like Amilcare, on Sundays they go to mass, and the priest will scold them if they say these words, and finding them written here has an impact, these peasants are respectful, they believe in god, and we must let them believe in god, so you may only say these words to Nonno when we’re together, otherwise Nonno won’t take you to the town fair again for the San Giovanni Festival, like we did last year, is that clear, Ninototo?… His grandfather’s voice was written in blue. His grandfather kept a red shirt hanging in his wardrobe because he’d been in Garibaldi’s army, and there was a saber leaning against the red shirt that Ninototo saw on Saturday afternoons when he was allowed in his grandfather’s room. But even with that red shirt, his grandfather’s voice was sky-blue and Tristano, head hoisted off the pillows, completely awake at this point, frightened, would clearly see that blue voice in the dark. Nonno, he’d say into the darkness, why’d you wake me? — I was just falling asleep, I can barely sleep these days, listen, Nonno, that was so long ago, I don’t remember anymore, so much time has passed, Nonno, I’m as old as you — no, older — please, Nonno, rest in peace and let me rest, too, but what’s gotten into you, sending me a letter just now, I worked so hard to fall asleep, you know, I’m all alone now, I don’t have anyone anymore, that boy I loved like a son brought death with him … so gentle, so quiet, how’s that even possible?… Nonno, what I did back then was wrong, I know why you’re scolding me, but are you trying to tell me what I did as a grownup was wrong, too, is that why you’re writing me, Nonno?
… Another letter, hard to define the color, maybe colorless. My darling Clark, that’s what I’ll call you from now on, since no one knows your name here, you’ve given out two or three, but only the commander knows your real name, I’m going to call you Clark because with that wisp of hair on your forehead and that little ironic smile, you resemble an actor from my country that I really like, but I like you even more, and I like it when you wrap your strong arms around me at night, but tonight we can’t, my darling Clark, I know you’re going down to the valley with the squad they’ve given you, I’m going down with the Gesso squad, you’re headed to the eastern versant, I’m headed to the western versant, the commander finally ordered me into action, and this is why they had me parachute into these mountains, he’ll stay here by himself, but he’s got nothing to worry about, the Savoy soldiers make good guards, and tomorrow night I’ll be back with you in your shelter, I promise, I think after this military action you’ll have to obey me and stop calling me Rosamunda, I don’t like it when you call me that, my name’s Marilyn, and you, Clark, what’s your name, won’t you tell me?… Another: bitter-green. Tristano, you’re awful, what you’re suggesting’s obscene, it was a paradoxical affair, not tied to my real life, my heart was always so full of this frustrated love for you, there was very little room for a man in my life, and that paradoxical situation was, paradoxically, the only one that worked for me … I wasn’t the one who betrayed you in the mountains, you wanted to believe that — and you know why, too — you know you needed to think that someone else was doing the betraying … Another: a rich color. Dear comrade, I’m not writing to you as commander, I’m writing to you as a comrade, if it’s all right to call you that even if you might not entirely sympathize with the deeper meaning of the word. I really appreciate your position and how honest you’ve been with me about your political views, I don’t want you to think that I consider you a bourgeois intellectual as you’ve accused me, and I also don’t want you to think of me as a diehard proletarian-lover, which is how you put it, and which didn’t offend me in the least, you should know this, because I value your ideas just as I hope you value mine, you’re brave and I respect you as a man and as a combatant, when all this is over, we’ll sit down and calmly discuss our ideas; for now, let’s just stick to firing at the enemy, and not at each other … Another: yellow. Tristano, I’m beginning to understand that no one wants to take responsibility for anything in your country, as if everything that happened, what we came to rid you of, was no one’s fault, and this allowed some to flirt with communist countries, as if any kind of totalitarianism was good, no matter what, me, I’m staying in Spain for now, I don’t have the heart to go back to Cincinnati, Spain’s different, really, and the ghost of old Ernest surrounds me here, is my amulet … but why did you decide to stay behind at that small train depot in the middle of nowhere, why didn’t you come with me, was it because you were afraid to understand? Another: black, in black vestments. Tristano, I entrusted him to you, and you didn’t know how to protect him, and you’re not capable of cutting off her head, the head of Medusa who hypnotized him, you’re the same coward you were back then.
… Because he had a mirror, Perseus managed to cut off the head of Medusa, who turned people to stone with her stare, and when he held up his trophy by the snake hair, he was able to free Andromeda from the sea monster, and then he married her … The principal star in the Perseus constellation is Algenib, or Mirfak … Arabic names … the Arabs were such great navigators, always sailing the seas and studying the stars … In Arabic, Algenib means keep to the right, and this is the brightest star, easily seen with the naked eye … thousands of times brighter than the sun, but the most well-known star is Algol, which means the demon’s head, apparently sailors found this star the most useful, who knows why … the Perseids are shooting stars that originate in the Perseus constellation, astronomers say they’re the remains of lasting comets, comets that have lasted god knows how long, you can see them around the tenth of August, maybe if you take a peek out the window, you’ll get to see them, I always did, it was like an appointment, every August tenth, but it must be long past August tenth by now, lying here, I’ve lost track.