Wednesday, March 22, 2006

ni siquiera la noche es suficientemente noche...

You once said (Felice) that you would like to sit beside me while I write. For writing means revealing oneself to excess; that utmost of self-revelation and surrender, in which a human being, when involved with others, would feel he was losing himself, and from which, therefore, he will always shrink as long as he is his right mind –for everyone wants to live as long as he is alive- even the degree of self-revelation and surrender is not enough for writing. Writing that springs from the surface of existence – when there is no other way and the deeper wells have dried up- is nothing, and collapses the moment a truer emotion makes that surface shake. That is why one can never be alone enought when one writes, why there can never be enough silence around one when one writes, why even night is not night enough.