Original Excerpt from Species of Spaces and Other Pieces by Perec, Georges
“I saw two blind people in the Rue Linné. They were walking holding one another by the arm. They both had long, exceedingly flexible sticks. One of the two was a woman of about fifty, the other quite a young man. The woman was feeling all the vertical obstacles that stood along the pavement with the tip of her stick, and guiding the young man’s stick so that he, too, touched them, indicating to him, very quickly and without ever being mistaken, what the obstacles consisted of: a street light, a bus stop, a telephone kiosk, a waste-paper bin, a post box, a road sign (she wasn’t able to specify what the sign said obviously), a red light..” (Perec, 1997, p. 49).
Re-Presented through the style of Invisible Cities
The woman and the young man walk side by side, their sticks tapping on the pavement in perfect rhythm. The woman, seasoned by age, made her movements deliberate, confident. Still learning the rhythm of the world, the man’s steps unsure, but he follows her closely, his stick mirroring hers. Together, they traverse the city, navigating not with sight but with touch, their world defined by the feel of each vertical obstacle (Perec, 1997).
The woman taps her stick against a streetlight, yet does not pause, only glances at it briefly, and then moves on. The young man’s stick follows, touching the same object, confirming its presence. A bus stop—another tap, another mark. A waste-paper bin, a post box, a road sign. Each object traced by their canes, each obstacle catalogued, felt, understood (Perec, 1997).
The street itself is a mosaic of textures and confines. The pavement is uneven in places, the edges worn smooth by countless feet. Their sticks guide them past each element, not as a series of obstacles, but as signposts in a city that is not seen but felt. The woman’s hand moves with assuredness, as though the shapes and rhythms of the city are etched into her memory, not by sight, but through the quiet cadence of countless repetitions. (Perec, 1997).
The young man’s stick taps against the same objects, learning the rhythm, the shape of the city. He moves with tentative steps, yet with a growing trust, as though the very act of following holds the secret to understanding. Together, they create a path through the city that is marked not by landmarks or directions, but by the precise echo of their touch (Perec, 1997).
The street is their map. It is made of sound, of feel, of repetition. Each obstacle is a word in the sentence of their journey. The woman, the young man, the street, and the world around them-they are all one, held together in the silent language of touch (Perec, 1997).
Reference
Perec, G. (1997). Species of Spaces and Other Pieces. Trans. John Sturrock. London: Penguin Books.
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