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The golem meyrink
The golem meyrink






The plaster peeling from an old wall will adopt the shape of a running human form and stony faces stare from the ice-flowers formed by the frost upon the window-panes. “And, just as Nature has her own happenings that foreshadow the advent of the lightning, so do certain forbidding signs portend the arrival of this phantom within our world of fact. Supposing life really were nothing but that mysterious whirlwind of which the Bible states, it “bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth”! Isn’t there a dream in which we fumble in deep pools after silver fish, and catch them, to wake and find nothing in our hands but a cold draught of air blowing through them?”

the golem meyrink

Driven hither and thither by some invisible, incomprehensible ‘wind’ that dictates all our actions, while we in our simplicity think we have free will.

the golem meyrink

I couldn’t help the thought that rose in me: if we, when all’s said and done, aren’t something similar to these little bits of fluttering paper. One solid piece of newspaper only lagged behind it lay helplessly on the pavement, flapping venomously up and down, like a fish out of water, gasping for air. Next instant they appeared to have decided on an armistice, but all of a sudden some unendurable puff of bitterness seemed to blow through the lot of them, and off they went again, each hounding on his next- door neighbour till they disappeared round the corner. I couldn’t feel the wind, as I was in the shelter of a house, but there they were, all chasing each other, murder in their hearts. Haven’t you ever felt that? Once I stood in a desolate square and watched a whole heap of scraps of paper chasing one another. It’s almost like a miracle when things that lie about without a particle of life in their bodies suddenly start to flutter. “I was thinking,” said Prokop, rather hurriedly, as if apologising for his own silence, “while the curtain was flapping, how odd it is when the wind plays with inanimate objects.








The golem meyrink