in qualche modo

Superficie a testura vibratile, 1972, by Getulio Alviani

And their sins were, well, extravagant: do not rub the backs of dogs; coin no false money; do not lie except about sex, about which lying was compulsory. Had he perhaps said something about sex? No, not at all. Had he rubbed the back of a dog? In that moment, precisely as he reached the bus stop, the gentleman understood himself to be a Martyr of the Faith but could not be certain as to which faith. … For an instant he remained in doubt, but then he understood that his uncertainty embodied his prestige, his tepidity, his strength: he stood at the start of a new career, when, just as he was stepping up onto the bus, his severed head slipped from his hands.

An excerpt of an excerpt of Centuria: One Hundred Ouroboric Novels, by Giorgio Manganelli, translated by Henry Martin, published last month by McPherson & Company, published in part this month by Harper’s Magazine.