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fondling of testicles, finished by a collection delivered by a courier, he had to end this life that was heading towards a mirror, modelling itself on his past. How could he know at that moment that he should hang on to find out its strange outcome? His movements were becoming blurred, and he rushed to the Metro, to play out the scene of his failed suicide attempt and, additionally, the beginning of our book.

6
    Six months later, our pseudo-hero was coming home from the United States, that large country he knew as much about as happiness. The concierge tried to score her Christmas presents, and an alcoholic neighbour (a pleonasm if ever there was one) tried to hold him back. Once seated at home, we had stopped to go back in time. Hector did not sleep a wink that entire night. After six months of convalescence, he needed to find the courage to return to a normal life. This was the turn of phrase that the tanned doctor had used: ‘Normal life, old boy, you are returning to normal life.’ It was necessary to at least try to commit suicide to be called ‘old boy’ by a doctor. Normal life, life without collections. This time, he was cured. He could not really say how, or at what precise moment, but during all his time in the clinic, he had washed himself of his past. He felt as though the particles of another man had parachuted inside him.
    His brother called him to ask what he intended to do. He had allowed him to obtain a long sabbatical, but now that he had done a comeback, he needed to tell him when he was going to go back to work. He did not dare tell him that the real reason for this pressure was that he was missed! Without him, the firm had taken on a ruthless appearance, like an episode of
Dallas
. Hector requested a further week’s holiday for a peculiar reason: he did not at all have the look of someone who has just returned from the United States. And to look like your journey was important nowadays. In any case those who have been there say
States
, and the longer their stay, the more they stretch the ‘
a’
to mark a certain intimacy that the rest of us are unable to understand: ‘
Staaaaaaaaaates’
. This intimacy is interpreted as proof. He therefore needed a week to learn everything about the United States. One week to go back to work, cured, and with a concrete alibi for the not very glorious six months of convalescence.
    At the François-Mittérand Library he asked for the United States section, and ended up in the Geography department. Hector enjoyed letting his finger slide on the spines of the books as he remembered an old collection, without any palpitations. How could he have been so stupid? He hesitated to do some push-ups, just to generate some instant pride. Finally, he came face to face with the
Atlas of the United States
. He stretched his arm, and this same arm collided with another arm. You needed to follow this other arm to see that it belonged to a human sample of feminine origin. He had just entered a competition with this woman for the same book. Polite, she was the first one to apologise. Gentlemanly, he insisted that she take the book. The union of politeness and gentlemanliness had the following conclusion: they would share the book, they would sit together and they would try not to step over each other when turning the pages. On the way to the sofa, and without really knowing why, Hector thought back to a Croatian maxim that said that we often meet the woman of our life in front of books.
    Manifestly, there was a book there.
    ‘So you’re interested in the United States?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, I’ve just come back from there.’
    ‘Oh really, you were in the
Staaaaaaaaaates
?’
    ‘Yes, and I have the feeling that you were too.’
    They were swimming in the points in common and the coincidences. And to back up this good fortune, each one contributed his comments, while glancing over at the
Atlas
. Yes, Boston, it’s magnificent, it’s a good agglomeration of 8,322,765