W. thinks of Lenin, after his stroke, being wheeled along in his basket chair, being helped to speak again, to read and write, using alphabet cards and basic exercises.
He thinks of Lenin, his brain dying, a twisted half-smile on his face, no longer able to say the words peasant and worker, people and revolution.
He thinks of Lenin, with only a few months to live, regressed to his second infancy, suffering paralytic attacks and spasms, whispering the nonsense words, vot vot, to express agreement or disagreement, a request or to express frustration. Vot vot, vot vot …
Lars Iyer's Blog 