A Lost Battle

by Adolfo Bioy Casares

My wife and I used to talk about everything. I was quite content with her, but I left her for Diana, whose attractive combination of instability and stubbornness I found irresistible.

I lived with Diana, talking about everything (as intimacy does not only mean taking off your clothes and making love, as naive people think, but is more a matter of discussing and sharing opinions). One afternoon at the movies, Diana mentioned the sand dunes. She mentioned them just in passing, which makes me wonder why I still remember the incident. To admit that it was an odd subject doesn't really explain why, because unusual and unexpected topics easily found their way into Diana's conversations. She viewed herself as a respectable sinner given to occasional transgressions, but night after night she would cry on my shoulder over the double guilt of having a lover and of deceiving him. This cycle of tears and transgressions was beginning to wear me down when, to make things worse, an expert in sand dune anchoring entered the picture.

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