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19 February 2010 @ 03:04 am
phantasmagoria, death drive  
Who am I? If this once I were it rely on a proverb, then perhaps everything would about to knowing whom I "haunt."

My image of the "ghost," including everything conventional about its appearance as well as its blind submission to certain contingencies of time and place, is particularly significant for me as the finite representation of a torment that may be eternal. Perhaps my life is nothing but an image of this kind; perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn why I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten. This sense of myself seems inadequate only insofar as it presupposes myself, arbitrarily preferring a completed image of my mind which need not be reconciled with time - an idea of irreparable loss, of punishment, of a fall whose lack of moral basis is, as I see it, indisputable.

From Nadja by André Breton.
Best V-Day present ever.
Tags: ,
Current Mood: anxiousanxious
Current Music: Die Form - Experiment with tears
(Anonymous) on March 28th, 2010 05:35 pm (UTC)
this rings true...

how are you, comrade?
(Anonymous) on March 28th, 2010 05:38 pm (UTC)
by the way it's saracho,