Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Something I found in my notebook today, forgotten in the earliest pages:
The thing I found most endearing about Jonathan was not his forever rumpled suits, nor his stammering over difficult words, nor the rather helpless trajectory his life had taken--no, most affecting was his skull, the whole contraption resting warily atop his shoulders. If you didn't know him, you might have thought his head and body ill-suited; Jonathan's skull was so like a full-scale helmet missing its suit of armor. I once asked him, untactfully if there had been an accident (imagining some mishap with birthing tongs), though he was so offended when I put this to him, he merely swung that brooding, beautiful, bust-like feature of his from side to side and wandered away. Whenever I saw him crossing the room, like this, in one of his grey and unkempt suits, I always thought he looked rather dramatic, like some sublime weather formation, luring the eye skywards. A cloud as perfect as an egg.
The speaker's a woman, I think. Played by Ingrid Bergman, maybe, in the film version. Here's the real-life Jonathan helping her with her zip...