Erika talked... I began to wonder if she had previously told the same story to other analysts in other languages, when...
I came to this country because I did not want to live with scar-city.
Scar-city?... Was it a slip? Although she had learned English before German she had spoken it at home, at school her maternal language is German. She definitely meant scarcity, but as she uttered it... she seems surprised... I'll clarify it for her:
You don't say "scarcity," you say "'sker-stee," although you write "scarcity." You are saying something else, you are saying "scar-city," that's two words...
So... 'sker-stee... scarcity... scar-city... It may have been a slip.
Scarce Scar? In any case it's provocative.
I suddenly remember a dream I had last night: I was sitting in a room, my mother... well, her presence... beside me. Through the partly open door across the hallway it had a red-purple carpet I could see through another partly-open door: there was my father, naked, his penis erect. I turned my head in the direction of my mother, and when I looked back my father's penis was gone: he had cut it with a scissor. Instead... in this spot, that is... where the penis hooks to the body... there was a round mark which had the shape of a big coin, a medal of flesh. A scar? I woke up
Who was the man?
Who was the man?
You'd like him to be you, look at your gesture! I never saw my father completely naked ...I never saw my father's penis. The penis... it looked like L.'s penis. The body belonged to my father; it had beautiful feet. Your body could look like that... you are thin and tall... but I do not know about your feet... in there... inside your shoes. I didn't see his face, it could be anybody's face. The same with my mother, I can't remember her face, but I could feel her there.
So what's that? A man whose body belongs to one man and his penis belongs to another, could it be you?
Yes, you, what would you cut out?
I don't have things sticking out, and I never thought of having them or wanted to have them... well, there are my tits... Well, there could be something there, but I don't feel like telling you
Tell me on Friday.
There she is again with the tight sweater. Now she wants me to notice her breasts, of course. Hysterical!...
Scarce... scars... scare...
Scars' talk... She's right back into the uterus. While pregnant herself, some extreme family situation would have affected her mother, scared her too much... Thus, had she partaken of her mother's scare while inside the womb, were her actual fears atavic? Her own fears: Her body would be cut out, separated from this other one, her mother's... had the mother partaken of Erika's fear? It didn't seem to work both ways. The navel a scar is hers. I'll highlight the joining point.
Oh!... scary... scar... scarce.
Her infantile day-dream had filled the place with thieves, snakes, frogs... and there was the scary cousin she loved and feared... he had later developed into a psychotic and committed suicide.
Well... also... I was scared of you. The only reference I had were your articles... I found them in a journal, I read them. I found your phone number in this journal, and this is how I called you... you know... in this enormous city. I was scared... sometimes you get ripped off.
May I have your pen to write the check? I forgot mine...
Well... what can I do? I am not asking for the Pelican, it's
that I just need a pen to do my check or you won't get paid today.
I threw it at her. But later... she had already left... where is my pen? Penis my pen, had I been left with the scar? I realized she had taken it with her. But she couldn't have gone too far. I opened the door, she was waiting for the elevator.
She turned around, she was surprised.
What about my pen?
Oh!.. I'm so sorry!