Ashes endowed with a soul
We are merely ashes endowed with a soul, lacking any shape, not even that of water, which takes the shape of the glass containing it. Fernando Pessoa — The Book of Disquiet
In 1935, the family members of a recently deceased corporate translator were sorting through the detritus of his home, in Lisbon, when they unearthed a large wooden trunk. Inside was a collection of paper scraps, notebooks, memo pads, and envelopes so vast that it is still being archived and transcribed today, where it is housed in Portugal’s National Library. This assemblage of writing, the nearly overlooked offerings of one Fernando Pessoa. The collection of poetry, letters, horoscopes, and prose, all in the author’s distinctive scrawl, is ascribed to no fewer than 137 aliases, which he referred to as “heteronyms,” each with their own distinct history, education, and relation to the other members of this vast interior society. Often, all they have in common, across various forms and styles, is a shared belief in the unknowability of the self and the porousness of all identities.