(86) The anracadabrante story of Mooon Child

 

 

Where Félix continues his thought which, slowly, floats between two waters… at multiple depths, and… perhaps, approaches the vera causa.

 

Félix’s Notebook

 

Igniatius exists abundantly within the drawings, within the reported words, within the notebooks, within the effects he produces upon Lucian. Yet he exists very little within the world itself. I could almost say that he possesses more narrative reality than objective reality. And it is precisely here that the notion of vera causa becomes dangerous…

For the hypothesis according to which Igniatius would be a figure produced by Lucian, consciously or not, begins to explain entire regions of this story that until now had seemed independent.

It illuminates why all the figures seem secretly to communicate among themselves… Why Pinocchio the Other already appears to contain the Moon Child… Why Don Carotte resembles a displaced continuation of the Child… Why each character appears less to be born than slowly to emerge from another… Why the drawings themselves sometimes give the impression of remembering one another… As though a single source nourished all these resurgences.

I mistrust this type of unification enormously. The human mind loves to fabricate hidden centers. It prefers a unique origin to the disorder of multiplicities. I know this danger far too well not to fear it immediately within myself.

And yet… The further I advance, the more the hypothesis gains explanatory power… It radiates. It acts exactly like Herschel’s vera causa. Not because it would definitively prove anything whatsoever, but because it begins to produce new coherences within zones that had seemed separate.

The most troubling thing remains this: Igniatius… or Lucian himself, sometimes appear to discover their characters after having produced them.

As though the author did not entirely precede his figures… As though those figures returned toward him from a place where he no longer fully controls them.

Then another thought appears, still more unsettling. What if Igniatius were not simply an invention?

What if every sufficiently invested figure eventually acquired a form of psychic autonomy?

After all, the Moon Child himself seems born from such a progressive condensation. Not as a character decided in advance, but as a presence slowly emerging from the crossing of drawings, gazes, copies, narratives, and silences. Perhaps this is what frightens Lucian… not that he may have invented Igniatius…

Perhaps it is the feeling that an invented figure could truly begin to escape him. As though certain creations, once they become verae causae within psychic life, gradually cease to be mere fictions and become active agents capable of organizing perception, memories, encounters, and even the future forms of language itself.