is something very strange thoughts. They are often nothing more than accidents that disappear without trace, they have their downtime and their successful seasons. One can make a brilliant discovery and fade slowly but see in your hands, like a flower. The form remains, but it has neither color nor fragrance. That is to say that it was nice to remember it word for word, that its logic value may well be intact, as it hovers over the surface of our being, at random, without enriching ourselves . Until suddenly back - a few years later perhaps - a moment when we realize that in the meantime, even if our logic seemed taken into account, we have completely ignored its presence.
(Robert Musil)
0 comments:
Post a Comment