When one night I discovered that my father was following me in the street to find out about my life, I felt a great pain. That behavior was strange and inappropriate in him. I understood that he was obsessed and I attributed it to the influence of Demian. Gatsby confirmed this.

"Demian has inserted himself into your father's brain. Only you can free him of that influence", he told me.

I focused on not doing anything that might appear strange and to let time go by in total peace and tranquility hoping that the situation with my father would get easier, which is exactly what occurred.


That day Gatsby called me. His voice was broken up. His girlfriend had ended the relationship. She had made the decision, it had not been him. He begged me to go and see him as soon as I could. Only someone like me could understand what this meant to him. I dropped everything and went to see him.

It was already nighttime when he got into my car. Gatsby liked to drive when we were together. He knew the city better and he was also an excellent driver. Nevertheless that time he sat in the passenger seat. He was distraught. He moved his body with difficulty as if it weighed more than it should.

"She", he said, "thought that I was rich".

"What importance does that have?"

"I was in love with a superficial woman"; he said it as if even knowing it to be true, he thought that the love between them would be stronger than all that.

I understood that that had been his hope and that he had been firmly convinced that he could cure that weakness in the woman that he loved. It was very typical of him to think in such a romantic way.

"Many women say that they dream of someone like me, but when that dream is in reach they are afraid to make it reality", he said to me almost with no strength at all.

We reached a place where we used to get together. The views from there made it a special place. Gatsby was walking like an octogenarian, with tremendous difficulty. It looked as if the pain that he was feeling had permeated his bone structure. In spite of that he remained erect. Even though he could hardly stand, he kept his head upright, looking ahead as if wanting to understand above all. He never allowed himself to be frustrated by pain. He lived through it because he could not be any other way. He called my attention to a very distant point in an unusual place.

"Look, there's Jimmy. He doesn't dare come near", he said looking into the distance.

I imagined Jimmy, so close to him, living through my friend's pain. During his physical life, Jimmy had been extraordinarily sensitive to this type of situation. It was as if something of his previous existence was being repeated and that pain must also have been intolerable for him.

We sat down. A pigeon flew directly to where Gatsby was. It landed on the bench, at his right, a few inches away. I looked at it and I was horrified. It was covered in boils and sources of pus on its head and all over its body. My friend played with it and made a gesture as if to pick it up, but the pigeon backed off, keeping at a distance of about a foot.

"Sanctity is healing", he said looking at the pigeon.

I understood that Gatsby's suffering had turned into a source of health for the thirsty pigeon. Purity is healing. What my friend radiated was healing and the bird's instinct had taken it to meet my friend. The poor little bird had been the only beneficiary of the most painful moment that I have ever lived with Gatsby.


Demian appeared to manage the threads that connected relationships between people in a very peculiar way, adding an extra load that, over time, became heavy. That was true of me.

I was tired. I was trying not to do anything that could disturb my father again. Telephone communications with Gatsby had become very difficult. Demian was closing the circle of my personal life, choking me. To put it this way, he was a very efficient worker.