Inici » The Mystery of the Double: A Reflection on Existence

The Mystery of the Double: A Reflection on Existence

by PREMIUM.CAT
una porta amb una planta en test a l'escala i una planta en test a l'escala del davant, Enguerrand Quarton, luxe, un barroc flamenc, moviment d'arts i oficis

The Disquieting Sensation of a Parallel World

I often find myself hearing the ringing of a doorbell that does not belong to my home, as if I were simultaneously living in another place whose location I do not know. This doorbell, the one at my alternative residence, sometimes rings impatiently, as if the opening is delayed. I imagine a different version of me, clumsily making my way to the entrance to meet visitors, like book sellers. The inability to open that other door makes me anxious, but what can I do? I’m not there, I don’t even know where it is. You cannot serve a book seller in Barcelona if you are in Madrid. I mentioned Barcelona, ​​but it could be any place, since I can’t place that other me in a specific place. It could be from anywhere in the world, spoken in a language other than mine. If we met, we would have to communicate through a translator. The only thing familiar is the sound of its doorbell, a conventional din-dong that must resonate throughout the world.

The Absent Presence

Sometimes, I find myself in the park, without interacting with anyone, when I smell the intense aroma of Camel, my old cigarette brand. I look around and there is no one smoking or doing any activity, since I usually visit the park during desolate hours. I deduce that the smoker, whose aroma reaches my nose like the sound of a doorbell reaches my ears, is far away, perhaps in the antipodes, in Australia. It’s another version of me who has gone out to the garden of his home to secretly smoke. It must be night in Australia now. That man, who is me, takes a deep drag while he watches the stars. I can visualize it if I close my eyes, but it is an imaginary reconstruction. The only real information I have about his life is the smell of his cigarettes, an aroma that crosses the different dimensions of reality to reach my nose. Will this man live in the din-dong’s house? It will be the same? Will he receive any sign of my existence? Maybe, when I flush my toilet, I’ll hear the echo in yours.

The Enigma of Parallel Existence

What will happen to me when that other me or those others die?

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