These notes my go-betweens to no one. In lieu of a line to God.
I send them out, offer them up, let them fall from my hands.
I dream of a form of writing that would write itself. Of writing without writing. Absolution.
— Frenet, Journal
These notes my go-betweens to no one. In lieu of a line to God.
I send them out, offer them up, let them fall from my hands.
I dream of a form of writing that would write itself. Of writing without writing. Absolution.
— Frenet, Journal
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.
– Kafka