Gonçalo Tavares - The Neighborhood

“It’s just that Mister Henri is very intelligent,” said Mister Henri. “Every inch of Mister Henri’s head is crammed with intelligence. Mister Henri has kilometers and kilometers of intelligence inside his head. I have already seen images where his intelligence is all coiled up inside his cranium as though it were a cobra full of perspicacity.

“The question of the two-stroke engine,” said Mister Henri, “is that everything that is important doesn’t exist in a two-stroke format but rather in a single-stroke version. There aren’t two Gods, the one on the right and the one on the left. And there weren’t two Great Floods: one at six-fifteen and the other at seven-thirty-five. A fact like that would make the term Great Flood ridiculous.

“All important words are one-stroke ones,” said Mister Henri, once again. “For example, the word ‘absinthe.’ Nobody says: ab-sinthe. And if they say so, they are sinning against that which is the most sacred of all that is sacred.”

And Mister Henri grew silent.

“This long speech has left me rather tired, would the overseer of this establishment be so kind as to bring me another glass of absinthe? Not of ab-sinthe. Of absinthe, always.

“The two-stroke engine is for idiots,” further added Mister Henri.

Reality

Mister Henri said, “If one mixes absinthe with reality, it results in an improved reality. Believe me, my esteemed listeners, when I say that I do not speak from erudition, which I undoubtedly possess in abundance; but no, that’s not it. I speak with the voice of experience, my dear compatriots! It is true that if one mixes absinthe with reality, it results in an improved reality. But it is also true that if one mixes absinthe with reality, it results in an inferior absinthe.

“I made the essential choices that one has to make in life a long time ago,” said Mister Henri. “I never mix absinthe with reality so as not to worsen the quality of the absinthe.

“Another glass of absinthe, my dear sir. And without a drop of reality, please.”

Intelligence

Mister Henri said, “What I dislike about pants pockets or shirt pockets is that they aren’t equipped to carry liquids. If items of clothing were better equipped to carry liquids instead of gold, the world would be a much better place. My dear sirs, please do reflect at length upon what Mister Henri is telling you, because Mister Henri is very intelligent. While the majority of people are intelligent from here upward, I am intelligent from here upward and downward. I’m intelligent in every direction,” said Mister Henri.

The Part on Top

Mister Henri said, “When I was on my way here I saw a nurse in a garden watering three babies just like one waters plants. And the babies seemed quite happy.

“A glass of absinthe, my dear sir,” said Mister Henri.

“If plants are watered by a woman they grow more feminine, if they are watered by a man they grow uglier. I have seen even more astonishing things.

“Another glass of absinthe, my dear sir, because the last one was served in a hurry.

“Studies have proved that intelligence is mainly located in the upper part of absinthe. That is why I always drink from the top of the glass. In truth, I have always been intrigued by the fact that it is not possible to drink liquids from the bottom. But that is not the only mystery in the world,” said Mister Henri.

The Contract

Mister Henri said, “My parents never put me to sleep with children’s stories. My parents used to put me to sleep by reading me contracts about leases and other things. My father used to work in a notary’s office that consisted of a notary and three men who nobody ever noticed. My father was one of them. My father never had time to spend with me and never had time to reread the contracts he was obliged to draw up. My father would make the most of the few moments he had with me before I fell asleep by reading the contracts out loud and would thus check for any errors, and I grew up thinking that children’s stories always had two sides, the right side and the left side, two consenting parties, and that one of them gave something in exchange for something else. It was only later that I realized that this really happened in real life — giving and taking — and that it was only in children’s books that things were given without wanting anything in exchange. Before he died, my father called me and said, ‘Never do anything without first drawing up a contract.’ Those were his last words. He was a sensible man.

“Another glass of absinthe! My dear second consenting party. Thank you very much.”

The Theory

Mister Henri said, “The telephone was invented so that people could speak to each other from far away. The telephone was invented to keep people away from each other. It’s just like airplanes. Airplanes were invented so that people could live far away from each other. If neither airplanes nor telephones existed, people would live together.

“This is just a theory, but think about it, my friends. What one needs to do is think at the precise moment in which people least expect it. That is how one surprises them.”

Physiology

Mister Henri said, “The first piano was built in Italy at the beginning of the eighteenth century. From 1880 onward, pianos evolved essentially at the level of structural and tonal capabilities as well as in terms of the speed of traction.”

Mister Henri drank a glass of absinthe in one gulp and, immediately afterward, gave a loud belch.

“One needs a great deal of sensitivity in order to play the piano.

“Burping is the language of my forefathers and I beg your pardon for being so attached to my family and for having disturbed you, my dear sirs.

“The advantage of alcohol is that it stirs you up inside. It’s a real internal anarchist, alcohol is. Far more effective than revolutionary ideas. Thinking doesn’t stir us up internally as much as a glass of absinthe, and all intellectuals should seriously ponder upon this fact. I’m not an intellectual, but I could be one,” said Mister Henri.

“If, for every time I drank a glass absinthe in this wonderful library, I had read a book in another sort of library, I would already know the entire history of the Visigoths by heart. The problem is that there are more races than there are cherries in the world, and if I learned the entire history of the Visigoths, I would lose the time I need to study the history of the Ostrogoths, who, by the way, don’t exist.