H. Adler - Panorama

What affects Josef today is not some great turning point in his life, for life doesn’t change, and such a belief leads only to awkward expressions of an overreaching spirit that insatiably gathers all events together into a dubious sense that imparts a precarious arrangement to them, while in actuality they remain the inscrutable unfolding of reality that frays the tattered threads of thought. And so Josef no longer sees things in this manner, but certainly there is a part that remains a kind of expectation, and every expectation works as a preparation, each rung of life repeating the same set of experiences, however deeper or more rich, while what appears to change are thoughts and feelings that are seemingly unrepeatable, although they soon resurface as memories. But what Josef is experiencing now is indeed a turning point, no, a reversal, it perhaps being best to think of it as a convolution, earlier everything having come at him from the outside as a continuous stream of stimuli, a kind of visitation from the many that touched upon the one, while now it was the opposite, the one seeking the many, the observer marking his surroundings, whereas before appearances affected contemplation. That could not continue, you need to point to and attest what you want to make of experience, and this requires that you look into your surroundings, it no longer being good enough to simply look on, but instead you have to examine closely, the panorama now turned around, the right to impartial observance is now forfeited, the spotlight is on and there is nothing for it but to wait and see whether it suits others to come and observe as well, but nonetheless impartiality has been destroyed. Until now there was an appeal to being anonymous, and even if generally no one was willing to admit it, so it was indeed, you paid a little fee and enjoyed yourself as if it didn’t really matter what you did. Now even the highest fee isn’t enough to successfully enter the panorama, Launceston Castle the last image of what is the irrevocable end of the show, the role of the guest now over, it now being enough to point out what he has learned and accomplished for himself, he ready to give up his seat or open his own panorama. Josef doesn’t yet know how he will begin, but he doesn’t believe a simple reversal is possible. As good as it is to be alone and unknown, he still has to gather and also look at the images as they slowly pass by, but it’s important to realize that there really are no new images, something that already reminds him of the past, when his grandmother put her arm around him and said, “It’s over, my dear. We’ve seen that one already. We have to go.”

Now it’s late enough that Josef has to leave the show, needing to go to the gardener and his helpers in order to thank them, for he has to appear grateful, he unable to enjoy himself without passing on some kind of consideration, he needing to at least say how much he enjoyed himself, many thanks, the castle ruins are impressive, too bad the hill isn’t a bit higher, for then the tower would allow you to see all of Cornwall, but oh, the prison, that really pleased me, I’ll never forget it, it is only a shame that not everyone knows about it, perhaps an even bigger inscription about the sufferings of George Fox would be helpful. After that Josef would have to praise the view, many aspects of it being remarkable, but though it is sweeping, it doesn’t go on forever, and in the end Josef doesn’t approach the gardener.

Josef thinks back to Landstein Castle, where the past and the present were inextricably linked quite differently from here, history remaining unknown there, no inscription, no sense of duty demanding that people be provided with the residue of the past, no park full of flowers there, while here in Launceston there was nothing but the enclosed garden design, from which all sense of the wilderness had been stripped, which is why it was so upsetting and peaceful at one and the same time, Josef always wanting to rise up against it, but then it eased his senses, he immersing himself in the surroundings that no longer possessed any suffering, everything here having been tidied up and protected by certain measures, though the possibility of some kind of harm suddenly bursting forth was still an open one, as each guest still had to behave himself, otherwise he would not be allowed in and would have to leave this country so full of history. And yet Josef cannot quite accept that he has been swept up by a powerful force coursing through the park, for all around it no longer seems as peaceful, which is visible only to Josef, it being good that no one is nearby to notice his stupor, for he cannot control his mounting concern that many voices are calling out and disturbing his sleep, which once seemed so safe, he having to take care that he is not caught, it being easy to grab hold of him since he is so weak, the steps going down that lead from the tower to the lower rooms of the castle, where Josef could be locked up in one of the cellars, no one knowing that any such thing had occurred. But those are ghostly thoughts, ridiculous and childish, for the inhabitants of Launceston walk within shouting distance below in the street, no one wanting to threaten Josef, and all of this simply a result of his imagination getting caught up in confusion. He thinks how his childhood was a bundle of anxieties, and how easy it was for this never quite conquered sense of dire concerns to erupt again, since only by the thinnest of veils is a person separated from past experiences that were once his present, though he must resist their shadow and not give in to them by allowing his senses to be broken, he needing to distance them within his own soul if he wants them to cease. Only then can he gain his own sense of security, reassurance calming him down, and perspective restored once again such that the heart can know the real truth. The only question is whether that can last, for the everyday world demands its measure of backbreaking work as soon as the outer danger is no longer unquestionably apparent, the wonderful power of the imagination lasting exactly as long or as short as the threat itself. Josef realizes that during the years of terror it was easier to maintain a certain composure than in times that are not as rough, for when dissatisfaction creeps in one is caught up in demands and feels pulled in many directions at once, without really knowing why. A person ends up turning this way and that to fulfill all such demands, but soon he notices how few things actually work, the result being insecurity. Yet should Josef withdraw? Launceston is a quiet town, for centuries the inhabitants here having been spared any terror that has been stamped into the lives of others. When the world fell into its great cataclysm, this place was forgotten.

Apart from practical reasons that forbid it, Josef cannot live in Launceston, he is such a stranger that everything here that could protect him would quickly fall apart, and the allure of his anonymity would soon pass, thus causing him to have to share in the fortunes of this place and the various plights that only the stranger is spared, since he knows nothing of them. Only the stranger can stride through such a small town in the sound belief that everyone lives here in peace, avoiding enmity as well as nasty rumors, the community governed in exemplary fashion, everything clean and orderly, the houses well appointed, flowers and fruit growing in the gardens, as can happen only in a blessed locale, the population amiable, everyone talking in the musical tones of the local vernacular, the Celtic influence pressing through it all, the saturated weight of an ancient culture traceable right up to the present. Meanwhile, in the surrounding villages one is greeted by none other than genuine farmers, tall serious men in country clothes who quietly smoke their pipes in dignified fashion as they drive along the cattle they care for, the wide-open farmland dappled with many colors, filling the mountains with their lit pastures, the entire area a single garden. Josef doesn’t wait long to do what he needs to do, for soon he will be locked out from it all once it’s noticed that he’s an intruder who should move on, extended hangers-on not being wanted here, especially people with Josef’s past, it being better to head for London if he wants to settle in this country. There he can live inconspicuously in the city that is not a city, but instead a sea of settlements, a disorganized, endless string of settlements, such that this sea has an indistinct countenance, a sea of houses and yet no homes, everything there unrelated and indistinguishable, the only kind of person found being the stranger, about whom no one asks, he allowed to wander through the numberless streets and to ride in the public transport, while places like Launceston want to remain themselves and don’t want gypsies like Josef.