Customer Service | Help | FAQ | PEP-Easy | Report a Data Error | About
Tip: To convert articles to PDF…

PEP-Web Tip of the Day

At the top right corner of every PEP Web article, there is a button to convert it to PDF. Just click this button and downloading will begin automatically.

For the complete list of tips, see PEP-Web Tips on the PEP-Web support page.

Kubler, A. (2009). From the Editor. Fort Da, 15(1):1-5.

(2009). Fort Da, 15(1):1-5

From the Editor

Alan Kubler, Ph.D.

If they had asked me then what shape the world is, I would have said it is a slope, with irregular shifts in height, with protrusions and hollows, so that somehow it is as if I were always on a balcony, looking out over a balustrade, whence I see the contents of the world ranged to the right and left at various distances, on other balconies or theatre boxes above or below, a theatre whose stage opens on the void, on the high strip of sea against the sky crossed by winds and clouds

In the early ′70s I traveled each summer by train and boat between England and the rest of Europe (“The Continent,” as it was referred to by those inhabitants of England who refused to surrender their sovereignty to a merging and uniting Europe). These trips always began in the antiquated and splendid railway stations of London. To a young man, these citadels of transportation were palatial, a far cry from the dual-platform country station I was familiar with. They were vast glass-and iron-domed buildings whose dimensions eclipsed any functional need — 30 to 40 platforms laid out in a uniform line, quickly dispersing its human travelers into multiple directions, a central hub with an ever-expanding spider web of railway tracks spreading out to distant places.

The seeming majesty of these buildings was quickly dispelled on closer inspection — the darkened glass, the rusty iron, and the yellowing walls all subject to the incessant vagaries of pollution and years of neglect. I remembered, in particular, the ornate railings that guarded the platform from those coming to meet and those alighting and embarking on the trains. Some of these railings were original, and despite having multiple layers of paint, the lead with which they were made would be exposed in places and so soft it could be indented with a fingernail. I found out upon returning to these places years later and finding these railings removed that the inherent health dangers of lead had outweighed the beauty of the railings.

These summer trips were a mélange of excitement regarding the end of the school year (and eight weeks of freedom) combined with the pleasure I derived from travel itself.

[This is a summary or excerpt from the full text of the book or article. The full text of the document is available to subscribers.]

Copyright © 2021, Psychoanalytic Electronic Publishing, ISSN 2472-6982 Customer Service | Help | FAQ | Download PEP Bibliography | Report a Data Error | About

WARNING! This text is printed for personal use. It is copyright to the journal in which it originally appeared. It is illegal to redistribute it in any form.