Dialogue on a Dialogue
A: "Absorbed in rationalizing about immortality, we had let dusk come without lighting the lamp. We could not see each other's faces. He kept repeating that the soul is immortal, and the indifference and sweetness of Macedonio Fernández's voice were more convincing than fervor ever could have been. He was assuring me that the death of the body is entirely insignificant and that dying must perforce be the fact most null and void that can ever happen to man. I sat playing with Macedonio's clasp knife, opening and closing it. A nearby accordion kept infinitely grinding out La Comparsita, that worn-out trifle loved by so many because they think it's old -- I proposed that Macedonio and I commit suicide so we could go on discussing without being bothered."
Z (joking): "But I suspect that in the end you decided not to do it."
A (now fully mystical): "I don't really recall whether we committed suicide that night."
Jorge Luis Borges, Dreamtigers, p. 25
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