“…and yet what we truly are is whatever the impossible creates inside us.”
Lispector, The Apple in the Dark

Love Begins
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Origami Around

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One Nice Bug Per Day
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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@tocontinueunabated
“…and yet what we truly are is whatever the impossible creates inside us.”
Lispector, The Apple in the Dark
I know that you think you already know but— Wait Longer than that.
even longer than that.
Marie Howe, “What the Silence Says”
Last year I wrote: every time I turn my head I hear a quiet crackling sound that makes me think of someone walking on sand or someone breaking lemongrass. This year I want to add to this, four months of constant tinnitus in my right ear, open ocean in that way, like whales you know are deep beneath the water's surface but which you never see.
“Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But, since no one was listening, everything must be said again.”
— André Gide, Autumn Leaves
For days a white-hot swelling; layers and folds of sticky warmth.
In the early hours, Derrida: “Tell me, who will ever have photographed a sentence? And its silence of things stifled on the surface? Who will ever have photographed anything other than this silence?”
Athens, Still Remains; tr. Pascale-Anne Brault and Michael Naas
Lyn Hejinian
“To talk does not constitute a catharsis. It is the actual doing. A work of art is successful for me when it removes anxiety. The price we have to pay: The work is only an acting out, trying to get rid of things. The work of art is limited to an acting out, not an understanding. If it were understood, the need to do the work would not exist anymore. Art is a guaranty of sanity but not liberation. It comes back again and again.”
— Bourgeois, L., c. 1992. In conversation with Jerry Gorovoy, c. 1992. Louise Bourgeois Archive; LB-0837.
Jonathan Crary, Suspensions of Perception