In the Maker, —a book of conjectures, plots and labyrinths—, Borges rehearses a disturbing notion about the existence of time. The story of the Emperor and his palace is shocking: a poet reads his work in front of the Sovereign, portrays his palace, the materiality between its shadows and details; quote by word and memory. The Emperor is moved: he believes that the poet has taken the palace from him and orders him to be killed immediately.
The mosquito pudding shamelessly absent its ingredient
main: the insect. Conjecture offers perspective
imaginary and another real. In one, the mosquito has
dwarfed to disappear: Can a tiny insect intermixed with the rest of the ingredients
make yourself visible? Could it be a confused memory, the hindrance of a forgotten Renaissance flavor?
Raskolnikov is a furious animal who, cornered by his own fears, attacks to understand, to stop his uneasiness, to explain himself through unanswered questions. It is none other than his tormented conscience who speaks into his ear, collapsing his reason into irreconcilable fears with stupor. Can a miser be useful to society?