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The Invisible Adversary

The Invisible Adversary A Story by Paul Priat “What time is it?” He sat back in his chair, a leather recliner, with his eyes closed and an empty glass in his hand. “Eleven o’clock,” I replied. My voice sounded puny in CompariSon to my father‘s commanding tone. After hearing my reply he stood up; still under the hypnotic influence of the gin he almost lost his balance, staggering like a dying elephant. ‘‘I have to leave,” he said, then bent over and smoothed out the wriakles in his green work pants with his callous hands. “Where are you going?’ “I don’t know.” Electric synthetic music blared from the television at- tracting my attention so that I did not hear his answer. I turned away from the screen even though the news was on and I wanted to watch it. He was in the hall now. I observed him closely as he struggled to put on a bronze colored jacket, trying to discern from his movements if he was too drunk to drive. Because my eyes were tired and sore my vision blurred on his image and suddenly there were two of him. My eyes closed. I had a hard time controlling them. http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Psychological Perspectives: A Semiannual Journal of Jungian Thought Taylor & Francis

The Invisible Adversary

The Invisible Adversary


Abstract

A Story by Paul Priat “What time is it?” He sat back in his chair, a leather recliner, with his eyes closed and an empty glass in his hand. “Eleven o’clock,” I replied. My voice sounded puny in CompariSon to my father‘s commanding tone. After hearing my reply he stood up; still under the hypnotic influence of the gin he almost lost his balance, staggering like a dying elephant. ‘‘I have to leave,” he said, then bent over and smoothed out the wriakles in his green work pants with his callous hands. “Where are you going?’ “I don’t know.” Electric synthetic music blared from the television at- tracting my attention so that I did not hear his answer. I turned away from the screen even though the news was on and I wanted to watch it. He was in the hall now. I observed him closely as he struggled to put on a bronze colored jacket, trying to discern from his movements if he was too drunk to drive. Because my eyes were tired and sore my vision blurred on his image and suddenly there were two of him. My eyes closed. I had a hard time controlling them.

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Publisher
Taylor & Francis
Copyright
Copyright Taylor & Francis Group, LLC
ISSN
1556-3030
eISSN
0033-2925
DOI
10.1080/00332927508409450
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

A Story by Paul Priat “What time is it?” He sat back in his chair, a leather recliner, with his eyes closed and an empty glass in his hand. “Eleven o’clock,” I replied. My voice sounded puny in CompariSon to my father‘s commanding tone. After hearing my reply he stood up; still under the hypnotic influence of the gin he almost lost his balance, staggering like a dying elephant. ‘‘I have to leave,” he said, then bent over and smoothed out the wriakles in his green work pants with his callous hands. “Where are you going?’ “I don’t know.” Electric synthetic music blared from the television at- tracting my attention so that I did not hear his answer. I turned away from the screen even though the news was on and I wanted to watch it. He was in the hall now. I observed him closely as he struggled to put on a bronze colored jacket, trying to discern from his movements if he was too drunk to drive. Because my eyes were tired and sore my vision blurred on his image and suddenly there were two of him. My eyes closed. I had a hard time controlling them.

Journal

Psychological Perspectives: A Semiannual Journal of Jungian ThoughtTaylor & Francis

Published: Sep 1, 1975

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