All The Names - Jose Saramago

just asking, everyone knows that a diversion is not the same as something being diverting, What about the
other one, What other one, The ex-husband, he would probably be the person who could tell you most
about your unknown woman, I imagine that married life, a life lived in common, must be like a sort of
magnifying glass, I can't imagine any reserve or secret that could resist the microscope of continual
observation, On the other hand, there are those who say that the more you look the less you see, but
whatever the truth of the matter, I don't think it's worth going to talk to him, You're afraid he'll start talking
about the reasons for the divorce, you don't want to hear anything bad about her, People on the whole are
rarely fair, not to themselves or to other people, and he would more than likely tell me the story so that it
looked as if he had been in the right all along, An intelligent analysis, I'm not stupid, No, you're not, it's
just that you take a long time to understand things, especially simple things, For example, That there was
no reason why you should go looking for this woman, unless, Unless what, Unless you were doing it out of
love, Only a ceiling would come up with such an absurd idea, I believe I've told you on another occasion
that the ceilings of houses are the multiple eye of God, I don't remember, I may not have said it in those
precise words, but I'm saying it now, Tell me then how I could possibly love a woman I didn't even know
and whom I'd never even seen, That's a good question, there's no doubt about it, but only you can answer
it, The idea doesn't have a leg to stand on, It doesn't matter whether it's got legs or not, I'm talking about
quite another part of the anatomy, the heart, the thing that people say is the engine and seat of affections, I
repeat that I could not possibly love a woman I didn't know, whom I never saw, except in some old
photos, You wanted to see her, you wanted to know her, and that, whether you like it or not, is love, These
are the imaginings of a ceiling, They're your imaginings, a man's imaginings, not mine, You're so arrogant,
you think you know everything about me, I don't know everything, but I must have learned a thing or two
after all these years of living together, I bet you've never considered that you and I live together, the great
difference between us is that you only notice me when you need advice and cast your eyes upwards, while
I spend all my time looking at you, The eye of God, You can take my metaphors seriously if you like, but
don't repeat them as if they were yours. After this, the ceiling decided to remain silent, it had realised that
Senhor José's thoughts were already turned to the visit he was going to make to the unknown woman's
parents, the last step before bumping his nose against the wall, an equally metaphorical expression which
means, You've reached the end.
Senhor José got out of bed, cleaned himself up as best he could, prepared something to eat and, having
thus recovered his physical vigour, he summoned up his moral vigour in order to telephone, with suitable
bureaucratic coolness, the unknown woman's parents, in the first place, to find out if they were home, in
the second place, to ask if they would mind receiving a visit today from a member of staff from the
Central Registry who needed to talk with them about a matter concerning their dead daughter. Had it been
any other kind of call, Senhor José would have gone out to use the public phone box on the other side of
the street, however, in this case, there was a danger that, when they picked up the phone, they would hear
the sound of coins dropping into the machine, and even the least suspicious of people would be bound to
want to know why a member of staff from the Central Registry was phoning from a public call box,
especially on a Sunday, about matters relating to his work. The solution to that difficulty was, it seemed,
not far away, all he had to do was to creep once more into the Central Registry and use the telephone on
the Registrar's desk, but it was just as risky doing that, because the detailed list of telephone calls, sent
every month by the exchange and checked, number by number, by the Registrar himself, would inevitably
register the clandestine call, What call is this, made on a Sunday, the Registrar would ask his deputies,
and then, without waiting for a reply, he would say, Set up an inquiry into this at once. Resolving the
mystery of the secret phone call would be the easiest thing in the world, he would just have to dial the
suspect number and be told, Yes, sir, someone from the Central Registry did phone us on that day, and he
didn't just phone, he came here in person, he wanted to know why our daughter had committed suicide, he
said it was for your statistics, Statistics, Yes, statistics, at least that's what he said, Fine, now listen very