"... As if all truth-that part shade where light is transmitted extingue- that the book was nothing more than access to the death of that writing would, at the same time, luck and misfortune; a death we do ours with each word, with each letter; with sounds and silence; where the sense is just what gives meaning to the adventure. As if, to have a sense, this adventure need also the profound meaning of the words, their multiple meanings, which are no more than glimpses of his brilliance.
And so the book, taken by his words, live his private life and die of their shared death.
And so, we are first driven and then abandoned by every split second of our lives. So, ultimately, we can only attest to this neglect.
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That continues, no doubt. But what is what, page by page, followed, here participating in this movement: life, death, injury, desire, ...read more