“Mourning of love, mourning of the community of friends, The culprit is the book of a loneliness without shelters. The author records that he wrote it on impulse, an inexorable necessity, since he had never kept a diary before. In this way, he found the way to present a thought that disavowed the philosophical exposition and that made it possible to capture certain moments as exceptional. Ultimately, guilt is an announcement of death. A woman has died, the war kills millions, even if it reduces them to the rank of news, but the desperate man continues to write, perhaps for no one. Well, if the inner experience seeks to speak to others, to the secret community of those who came out of themselves to find the absolute void, the culprit only records the existence of that external nothingness. War, bureaucracy, the chance meeting are emblems of nothingness. Bataille repeats it: “it is a bo...read more