‘I remember being pulled out of the hole some days after. Out of dead time. From time to time it would happen. Somehow I’d silence the voice that told me I wasn’t listening and wouldn’t understand if I did. I’m trying to remember what was out there. Unfamiliar territory, dangerous in its own way. Pregnant with possibility and risk. Easier to step back in the shadows and start listening again: you think you’re free, you think wrong, listen to me.’
Everyone carries a room about inside him. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one's ears and listens, say in the night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.
Notes for a fragmentary novel entitled The Moment, linked at the top of the page.
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