narrative

• If it’s a story I’m telling, then I have control over the ending. Then there will be an ending, to the story, and real life will come after it.
• Attaching a name attaches you to a world of fact, which is riskier, more hazardous: who knows what the chances are out there, of survival, yours?
• My self is a thing I must now compose, as one composes a speech. What I must present is something made, not born.
• the long parentheses of nothing. Time as white noise
• She leans back, inhales deeply. I on the contrary move forward
• if i’m ever able to set this down, in any form, even in the form of one voice to another, it will be a reconstruction then too
• [the Guardians] sudden apparitions, like Martians. There was a dreamlike quality to them
• The geometrical days, which go around and around, smoothly and oiled
• You’ll have to forgive me. I’m a refugee from the past
• I’d like her to end with something daring and spectacular, some outrage, something that would befit her. But as far I know that didn’t happen
• I made it up, it didn’t happen that way.
• This is an acknowledgement that we are acting, for what can we do in such a set-up?
• All I can hope for is a reconstruction: the way love feels is always only approximate
• I wish this story were different. I wish it were more civilised. I wish it showed me in a better light.
• I’m sorry there is so much pain in this story. I’m sorry it’s in fragments, like a body caught in crossfire or pulled apart by force. But there is nothing I can do to change it.
• Because I’m telling you this story I will your existence. I tell therefore you are.
• So I step up, into the darkness within or else then light
• Are there any questions?