Posted by: Sk | February 22, 2009

Chapter 24: Scissors cut paper

Quel bordel, mon dieu. Tora. (Now, in Greek.) I’ve to really sit down now and get out of my imaginations at once, before it is too late. Didn’t I say so. There are strange links between fantasy and reality. Which will not that much surprise me, but Sask must be shocked, the poor. Wasn’t it a way to explain what happened in Jerusalem in 2003? Them I was alone, now, there’s someone else sharing my destiny. Which will not help her to solve the situation, and she in charge. You see the problem, when you go too far into people’s private life, you’ll finish up by being accused of having built up a proof, an artificial, wicked one. At the end, I will be the only one to believe in you, even if it is none of my convenience. Because if it is not you, it is me. As it is not me, it must be you. It can’t be you, thus, there is something strange that has happened.

I saw Oriol Vilaseca in the court today. There he was, my imaginary character with some link to reality, looking as if it were still easy to get out of some security prison. It’s true that everything was upside down, today, I mean, there is usually some order, some inner logic to what happens, and today, I didn’t know whether I was a gourou, a terrorist, a lieutnant general myself, anything, and thus for all the others. The guard looked like General Patton, Sask appeared like a counter spy and even Oriol looked more as if he were going to a party than if staying in a security prison. What do you do? Which grasshalm do you grasp? – How poetical. But you usually become, in those situations.

I went down to the court, not that much because I really wanted, but because I felt it was to be done like that, I mean, it’s not that he’s accidentally there and yes, I was writing some story yesterday linked to him and on top of that, I know him. I said: “Hola. Qué tal? Qué haces aqui?” And he somewhat stared at me and claimed out:”Sonja.” “Sí, Sonja. Qué pasa.” (Yes, Sonja, what happens?) “Pues mira, me han traido aqui diciéndome que íbamos a una fiesta, y en cuanto hemos llegado, me han esposado y me han metido aqui.” (Well, look, they brought me here saying we were going to a party en when we arrived they have put me handcuffs and brought me here.) “Y te lo has creido?” (And you believed it?) “Qué tonto, no.” (How silly.) “Anxiety in voice : “Sabes algo?” (Do you know anything?) “Yo que sé. Puede ser cualquier cosa. Yo tampoco sé muy bien por qué me han metido aqui.” (I don’t know. It can be anything. I don’t know myself very well why I’m here.) “Te juro que no entiendo como piensa esta gente. A mi me tuvieron un mes esperando y luego parecía que me acusaban de espionaje.” (I swear I don’t know how these people think. They had me one month waiting and then they accused me of spywork.” “Joder.” (Really.) “Bueno, me voy y me cuentas más tarde.” (Well, I’m leaving now. You tell me later.)

Joder. Such a story, now. And the problem is, they’ ll have elements. His brother was involved in some ‘movement’ when he was younger and has a police record. On top of it, he studied hebrew at University, although he never finished his studies. He makes web pages. This means, there is a webpage somewhere. It’s for sure, now. Follow the thoughts. It means there may have been some falafel demonstration, too. Otherwise they wouldn’t have acted so quickly and decisively. This means, my papers are somewhere. And this, that they have left prison. And I’m writing novels, such a fun.

Buuf. Buuf. I mean, it’s easy to say their is some ‘fuite’ in the lieutnant general’s office. I wouldn’ blame her, because it does not seem to be her type. I mean, yes. I think she may build up a false proof. Certainly. The kind, she is subjectively convinced of the fact that someone is guilty. Build up a false proof and this is appalling evidence for the subject, who will confess. In fact, a false proof is a psychological device which, confronted to the reality of the accused may cause the finding of real proofs. But here. What for? I mean, yes, but not that way. It’s too involving for her. Imagine you have a page in ineternet which is pretending someone has left documents out of prison. It affects her. And you may have built up a similar proof without involvement, somehow. I mean, if my texts were of different nature, ok. You put the page in internet and then say: look, here your papers here your page, and there you are. And the one sits down and says, yes to everything, even to a false birth date, if of need. There are two things that would stop her from such a thing: first, she knows it is difficult to trap me with such evidence, she has tested before and I have avoided the trap with relative intelligence by just leaning on facts. I would say (she may think): And how did the papers get out of here? On top, even if it is a test page, there are people looking at it. And this implies that it may cause movements and what: are you going to say that you have provoked the falafel demonstration yourself in order to trap a prisoner? Tss. It’s to go too far.

No. No. No. Something happens. The most suspicious of all, to my own eyes, am myself. It’s just to follow the novel. How. I have translations that are sent in by my father. These translations are from German into Spanish. To say. If they revise something, they will be revising the German text. And probably just at the begining. It is all the same and it’s expensive to translate the whole stuff. I’ve sent a letter to my father saying (the first from Halil) saying: “Ask from Oriol Vilaseca a page. Not from me, from you. I’ll send you texts under the translations (same font/same style/ same paragraphe). Each is a header text for some chapters I will send you through cd, that go just under the header. Open a page called. Don’t talk about it. If anything happens, say, you don’t know anything.” I’ve sent the cd. My father hasn’t the address of Oriol, but my brother has in France. It’s not difficult to get it. He phones, (because he’s careful) once to Oriol and tells him: he’s sending the documents through the post. If he is very careful, he uses the same envelop Halil has sent and just changes the address somehow. Although this is dangerous, because the first address could be read. Or, better, he copies Halil writing at the back, and address and stamps. It will take too much time. He certainly won’t go that far. He thinks, not me. He gives the envelops to some friend, for example, David Butler, and tells him to do him the favour and send them to Barcelona. Or not. Because David does not do that kind of thing. The woman who is cleaning up the appartment. He’s not seen in the post office. She will not be remarked. The envelops arrive and Oriol makes the page. He thinks it is just a job. He puts the information in internet without too many questions and is trapped. How wicked, if I have thought such thing. But it is possible. I can’t but consider the possibility he will be trapped. He may end up in prison, because they’re going to search him and accuse him of whatever it is. I would have to have reasons. It’s true that we have quarrelled. He changed my pages from a valencian server to a dutch one and when I wanted to activate them, they didn’t work anymore. But, is this reason enough? It doesn’t matter if I may think it possible myself. I mean, it’s true that you can suspect something out of little details. Much fatter than just a change of server. I may suspect it is not normal someone is making webpages without registration – not only because he doesn’t pay taxes and doesn’t make the effort to justify – to say, there’s something behind, something hidden. Perhaps a paedophilia mafia. Or real links to terroristic groupments in Palestina. It’s not impossible. I know that the very fact of having gone down to Jerusalem, then, was understood in very wicked ways and perhaps just because some people were jealous. It may have provoked the wanting to distroy the possible generation of some new religious feeling, which was understood as dangerous, then, in France, by progressively involving people into random activity. To say: There you have it, the holy. I may have had some intuition of that, perhaps deriving wrongly, because some documents that were not mine appeared in my web pages’ dashboard. You take Ipswitch to send the information to internet, for example. It has a series of documents: some are in your computer, some are in internet. One day, while going through the pages, I saw there were more in internet than in my computer and the only one to have the password was Oriol. What happens if the codes to the dashboard are given to the one or the other. What if you download some information again somewhere else? It may be his way of thinking, although I didn’t control. I just asked for the management of the page. He changed servers against my explicite advice. And went to some Dutch server, Sync, I don’t like specially. There is something dubious about the whole. May I have kept this in my unconscious in order to drive attention on something? Kind “I don’t know anything. He may?”

A little bit complicated as way of thinking, I’d say. But possible. On top, it puts my own life in danger. Not that I would be shot finally, but it is going to disturb my plans. She is going to get angry, whatever happens, and I have to take care of my own life, which is not that easy, either.

But. Let us say. Sask is out. I’m out myself. If Oriol has done everything all alone by himself, not only he’s a real bastard, but how did he do it? I mean, he has to get my texts and then the information out of prison. Such long fingers? A stupid accident? But why then blame me of all? Does he keep reasons, I don’t know? Is he deviating attention from something and he knows about my situation and has thought that in this, I will be blamed myself for everything? Panic? But if it were so, which is not impossible: he sees my name in internet and asks my father where I’m. He says, (to him he would,) I’m in prison. A brilliant idea is born. Ok. But the texts? I mean if they were different than mine, he may have made them up. But they are the same. Thus, they have to have left prison, somehow. The cd, ok. My father has it, he gices a copy to David Butler because he likes the contents. David leaves it to his friend Cesar and he forgets it in a Café, perhaps someone is the whereabouts and gets some appointment with the one or the other and steals the cd. Cesar is a little bit careless, does not remember where he has left it and forgets about the whole. Yes. But my father hasn’t the diary in prison. It is texts that have been written before, that have nothing to do with prison. How does the diary arrive in Oriol’s hands?

You must know that it exists. You must know where it is. You must know to get it out. Let’s think about this possibility, now. I’m here. My texts are in my flash. They have been ‘copied’ by Sask. But she’s not the only one to have had possible access. A guard. Elma. Maya. That’s what we have.

Wait a minute. And if Oriol hasn’t made the page? I mean he is here. You see how compelling it is. He is here, it is him. This is how we run into the most absurd hypothesis. They have thought, it is him, but is it? There may be reasons to think so, can they prove it? It’s difficult to prove. It’s a wordpress program. He’ll say he works with Frontpage. He doesn’t have the password of that page. He doesn’t know anything about me, since months even years. He didn’t even know I was in prison. Logically, he says: It’s not me, the page will stop producing documents.

It can’t be Elma, it can’t be Maya, they’ve left a long time ago, and if the page had stopped then, it must have caused the deduction of who it was. Because if Maya had made the page, she wouldn’t have fresh documents now. And this would create a rupture in style, even if she pretends she’s still there. And this is visible. I mean, not that I think they would think this way, but it leaves proofs some other way. Kind, the texts don’t fit with mine after exactly the day Maya’s left. If it were to take things this way, it must come from the lieutnant general’s office. A guard? Impossible. They have no access to the computer which has an entry password. They have internet because they use both memories of the hard disk, certainly, if not three. They keep some documents in one which is blocked for outer access and they use some other user with limited acces to another memory. Certainly. I would say. I mean, they’re not stupid, these people.

But there is something. The flash. She must use is. And I know she has been through all my texts, which are quite a lot. Certainly not here. She must take some copy home. Home is always dangerous. But what, to think someone has access to some personal computer or may be stealing the information day after day? That’s very near. And very careless. Once it may happen, but ten times? 15 times? That’s very much. I don’t know, where this path may lead to. There may be a hole somewhere. Of course it may be the strategy I had made up in my former stories. A closed circuit. But the possibility of having a closed circuit involves someone from the whereabouts. I know. You have a few computers at home. They are like that these people. they don’t share anything, only the circuits. Closed circuits need cable connection. She would have realized. But not her daughter or son, or whatever, a cousin. For internet (they’re grippy) they’re not going to use different connections, certainly. (I wouldn’t do either, by the way.) In order to have the same internet connection you need a closed circuit. If there is a fourth computer connected to this circuit, the other will not realize. A cable more or less. There is one for the printer, one for the scanner, one for the photo machine and etc. Soem cables ’she tends to think’ are there only to bother you. It’s obvious.

Of course those people have no private internet connection. It will certainly depend on the army. Yes. But not some acquaintance. A Oriol gibi, as I used to say (like Oriol, in turkish). A friend of one of the children. they take care with the acquaintances of officers, less with their children. Someone pretends to know a lot about computers in the whereabouts, some accidental acquaintance, it seems. He goes there for a visit. Pretends to install something. How does he get the cable out? You don’t need it anymore. You need some parallel internet connection, to say: the codes of the internet connection in order to use the same in another computer. You get into computer A, which is in closed circuit with computer B. If you enter A, you will have access to B.

AFter a while, the guy disappears. But this means, means. You need the following circumstance: a family member in one computer, with internet. At the same time the lieutnant general in the second, with internet. Probably the division of memories does not exist here. She never takes information out of the office. But this, this is literature, psychologically. What the importance. It is already 6 months some obscure agency is following more or less boring movements. No connections to pornographic sites, no wild love letters, no confidential information, nothing that may be used. And all of a sudden, this information arrives in some office, somewhere. How can it be used? After so many months, something. But. What. May it be useful. It is a government, because the amount of information needed in order to use such a thing against ‘x’ is too high even for most developped mafia. You need to know: who the subject is, that ‘x’ is at the head of some prison, that the subject has weak exploitable points or contacts. That some of these are susceptible of giving in to some invitation.

Germany. No doubt. It’s obvious. They have a strategy consisting in accusing Israel of attempt against human rights in questions concerning Palestina. They use random organizations like ‘Medecins sans frontiere’ or ‘other’ in order to foment rumours concerning illegal behaviour in those environments. This is why they are interested in the lieutnant general. This is why they make up the whole. But I’m not a palestinian. The better. German citizen put into prison without reason and submitted to psychological torture. Perfect. They are not going to publish the information themselves. My father is contacted and the page put in functioning through Oriol. Why my father. Because if something goes wrong, they’ll blame him. Affective reasons. No government involvement. Clean hands.

It looks sound. It explains everything. The letters arrive finally through some ‘x’ to Oriol’s hands, who does not know anything about the whole, but is publishing periodically articles in internet. No direct link, no involvement. I would believe this. But it’s just an hypothesis. I mean, you need to verify and I haven’t the means.

Don’t exaggerate. Say I was in love with someone in Israel and made everything up, even compelling proofs accusing Germany in order to get a passport for free in Israel that may not have the implications of having to get married. That’s too tortuous. I mean, there are limits to imagination, somehow. Although, why not. It’s vanity to think so. But which power. Which extraordinary conjunction of circumstances.

Not that it is not impossible, I have to admit, even a posteriori. Look. Go through the German psychic type analysis. It finishes by implying that they confuse in reversion (consequence before cause) the private with the public. Logically they’re going to use the private channel. Israeli have some fusion of structures that leaves some hole somewhere, but they don’t revert. For them, the cause comes first and then the consequence. There you have the hole. The difference in vision arising from some ’same’ (confusion of the private and the public) and some difference (different causality patterns) allows the infiltration of a private aspect that is not considered because it doesn’t fit in given patterns of understanding. The German structure allows the use of coincidences and circumstantial elements: the kind, to use some accidentally found ‘text’ as if it were part of a plan. What Sask would never do. It’s possible to think such a posteriori. Confronted to some elements. But a priori is very difficult in these circumstances. I’m in prison, and the pressure is quite high. Perhaps some unconscious conclusions do go on working, incidentally, accidentally and the situation is such, just because it is a logical consequence of ways of thinking, I just run into. I want to say that you study whatever inside of your own patterns of understanding. Mine include the possibility such a thing may happen. I can just test it. Not to get out. To get free. As a slight, far and remote possibility. Kind, do you  a favour and it grants for the rest. But the possibilities such a thing may happen are so little, that you can not consider it consciously. I would say. I mean, I didn’t think about it, it’s an evidence.

Let us presume it is like that. I wouldn’t profit of it, it’s not my character. I have to transform some subjective ’evidence’ into a more generally accepted context.


That was in the morning and ever since a lot of things have happened. My status has changed. For a while, at least, but you should profit of all circumstances. Sask informed me very politely of the fact, she was going to use the upper document in a cross examination with Oriol Vilaseca. In fact, she hold this for ‘my version’ and although it had really looked this morning as if I would be taken by the neck to the evidence of a webpage and a confrontation with Oriol, it finally didn’t happen. She asked me to sign the paper and wrote something on it. Then I was asked whether I wouldn’t mind to assist to Oriol’s cross examination. To listen. I mean. I said, why not and was taken out of the door – the first time since I’ve arrived here – and along some corridor and some steps down, there, I guess, where you receive visits, because Maya did always disappear this way when someone was coming, and where I suspect the isolation cells are, although I’m not sure. There are two rooms and they are cut one from the other through a wall and a window. And the window does not allow seeing from the other side, but does from mine. You can hear what they say through some microphones.

You always go somewhere with some hypothesis in your head. If you’re guilty, you always think how to use what there is to your advantage. In this case, the hypothesis is you alibi. You always have to think both ways because if you are innocent, and you may believe it (which is not necessarily the case – I mean there are really stupid one’s who make of the buying of a packet of cigarettes the belief they are heroically contributing to some revolutionary movement, until they’re caught. The psychological boasting will become an irreversible proof to his own eyes, and he will even be making up things and mislead some investigation.), this does not imply that others are convinced of what you are convinced. In my case, I state, the difference in logic does imply that what I do may compellingly appear as proof of guilt to others, and this, you always have to consider. If you’re guilty, you have to adjust your sayings to the possibility they may appear as proving innocence to other people’s eyes. Whatever they think, whatever they may blame me for, I have a hypothesis. My hypothesis is my alibi to their eyes. Whatever Oriol says, I have some ‘excuse’. The possibility it could be otherwise. Because, even if there is no closed circuit in Sask’s house, even if the papers have been sent by myself to my father (and thus you conclude without proofs that necessarily I must have done it myself), I may allege that I was ’seduced’ by my father in order to give him information which I thought he wanted just for personal reasons. And this information has been misused with or against his will in order to make a public scandal. Whatever he says, it does not affect me. Only if there are papers that do link me to my father and inside of which there is a clear reference to the making of the page, I could be involved. If I had done it myself, I would have changed the writing enough so as not to show a clear ressemblance. If it though did, “I’d say that Halil stole some of my texts and that he asked for the address of my father later and this is why the letters do ressemble to mine.” To say. I feel innocent however you turn things and however compelling you may want make proofs appear.

Does Oriol? I don’t believe so. He may feel guilty because of whatever. And he looks guilty. His attention is narrowed by this very fact. I have been here for over a month. In these places you start thinking about the chocolate you stole away from your mother when you were 8 years old. It’s like that. Very rapidly, the chocolate and some real crime acquire the same value. Aware of the fact that you have stolen a chocolate, you may hide away this and confess some criminal activity, very quickly. Whenever he is going to read my ‘version’ his perspective is going to be determined by this very fact. Does he think I’ll sell him? Does he think I’m innocent? Does he get rid of his own fault by accusing me without knowing? Does he mean I’m going to help him through some ‘instructions’?

Let us see. He admits: he comes from Barcelona, he comes from a notaire family, he knows me through someone called Emmanuel Castro, who he had a music group with, through a common friend called Marc, who went to the same school than Emmanuel. Emmanuel wanted to walk down to Jerusalem. Oriol was informed and wanted, too. (There was a stop here.) After some deliberations, he came with us although he had to stop his studies. He was the youngest of all. He knows me for the six months the journey lasts, stays then with us three months in Israel and leaves for Barcelona. He will visit us in Istanbul at least once. Then, he’ll come to Greece almost every year for years. The last time he comes is in 2001, for very short, not even a day. At the same time, he finishes school, goes some years to university studying ancient languages, in any case hebrew, and stops after. he works at his father office and makes web pages by the way.

What does he omit? That he saw me in Barcelona in 2005 and told me how to make webpages with Frontpage. Why? Because he forgets? No. Because then he’s already in some dirt.

Sigamos. He says: That he recieved a phone call from my father and then, some documents. That he accepted because he had some financial problems and that he doesn’t speak English well enough to evaluate the contents. He just copies and pastes.

(He’s very silly.) There you have your 5 years, for publication of to national security related documents. – Poor guy. Following his thoughts: I have committed the crime in Spain, I should be judged in Spain. I say the truth, it does not involve me. (I’m hearing it. – Your crime is a confession in Israel.) 5 years. The lieutnant general says. It was obvious. And he says “but I’ve done nothing here.” “You say you have done it, and that’s enough, here.” He’s a little bit paler now.

Bad situation. But that situates everything somehow. My father is involved. I knew it. Another poor guy. Misused all his life by this Bundesrepublik. Well. I’ve to think about it because I have another problem. Sask looks highly confused, and this because she has been through my text yesterday and it is revealing things that have happened, really, somehow, even if somewhat differently. It’s obvious. Oriol is here and I couldn’t know. Let us study this mysterious character again, because the worse thing to happen now, is that she lands in a psychiatric hospital. Such a long time studying this psychology to get the way out and she may disappear now. – That’s completely out of question.


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