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@somethinglikethisbuuutnot
by Peter Przybille
“January 30, 1979 We don’t forget, but something vacant settles in us.”
— Roland Barthes, The Mourning Diary
Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die.”
‘The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, August 3rd, 1930’
Irréversible (2002)