Not stories, rather those moments of undoing when you’re stopped in your path and something lies before you like a challenge, demanding that you bear witness to it and let it do its work on you. I always admired people who can let themselves be absorbed in stories, let stories take them in from beginning to end, in the same way I admire people who can sleep in public. I’m always on the outside of every story, except when I’m pulled in by a passage that seems to step outside the story, revealing its meaning and thereby its meaninglessness; that at once illuminates and undoes the story to which it belongs. Often I’ve dreamed of writing a book consisting only of such passages. But I’ll never write a book.
— Frenet, Journal