The other fase of the coin

I have been looking incessantly. Staring reaches a point in which it makes my eyes sore and tired. Patience is a discipline not easy for all. It seems only attained thanks to great force of spirit. Indeed, I am paid to watch over a man naked in a room. The room has no objets. It is just this man, some kind of Adam, who does not care about clothes and only sits there all day long, writing on what appears to be a red notebook. I don't know what or why he writes with such vehemence. I would like to know, it would probably help me with the case, even absolve me of such boring a job. But I was absolutely prohibited from making any contact with the suspect. So tough luck...Every morning somebody brings food to him. It's a woman, not pretty for that matter, but certainly sexy. They never interact. Sometimes I wonder if he is not actually a prisoner, if i should not inform the police about it...but the guy shows no resistance, so I suppose he is there on his own will. I have noticed that a mechanism in the blinds avoids daylight to enter the room, thus avoiding my vision as well. Each day, the blinds seem to close a bit earlier. I have seen this naked man eat and write, his only activities. Now he tends to eat more rapidly, almost in a rush, in order to be able to write more. I have seen him in scrupulous meditation against the white page, he fairly moves, his forehead is wrinkled in deep thought. I can only assume that his notebook is the only one he has, and that when the blinds are closed he is obliged into darkness. How terrible it would be to stare all day long into the dark, empty ceiling. Of course it is not very different from what I do. I have only been informed that the man is named Daniel Quinn and that he used to be some kind of writer, not very well-known. What terrible city, New York! Where everybody can be watched by anyone. All walls seem forged of pure glass, each thing we see has the appearance of an illusion.

To Paul Auster.