I talked to him, I have no right to utter this sacred verb. While he sat on a feeble chair, I talked to him. All I could think about were words, feelings I had been searching for a long time, and ideas I had once lost. I saw his face, with the expression of a hypnotized person, pale white and suave. The outfit, very sharp and opaque, always looked proper. This man, a silent shadow in the room, lived in a never-ending trance. I knew that something was out of place. I wasn’t talking to myself, but I was talking alone.
That’s how I felt in my first session with Arturo Mendoza. I could fill his silence, while he listened to me. The city, a prison for free men, had led me to him. It was in 1963 (if I’m correct, which I doubt), the afternoon this person sat in front of me while I cynically read the newspaper. Moments after, nothing could stop me. I was bound to telling him all I knew in return for nothing, not even a simple nod. When I connected with him I forgot where I was and what I was doing, the walls cleared and all I could feel was him.
He was the perfect therapist for a man like me, but I didn’t know that. He was the only psychiatrist I could find, unbelievable in the city of psychology. He was, indeed, the most conscious and clean man I’ve ever met. As I talked to Arturo, he always stared at me waiting for more. Without judging or moving, I knew his presence was all I needed to be heard. I can’t recall a single day I haven’t talked to him in the past year. One afternoon without his eyes pointing at me could probably cause me indigestion.
Fortunately, I did see him today. After talking about my current situation (chaotic), I realized that it was over. I didn’t have any ideas, no more words without important meaning that I wasted over and over. That was the time when I realized to whom I was narrating my whole life. Arturo Mendoza was the closest thing to a tape recorder for me, I suspect though, he was not very capable of replying. After all my talks with him I realized I didn’t receive any response. I lived in a monologue.