Image by Djuliet via FlickrBased on NON-WORK, a text of Marguerite Duras
One hides the others. In it self. The paper is empty, except for the fact that is not just compose letters, it is not just the still untouched page.
We live on this paper. Me and the others. We breath on it. I eat the space when a touch the page. I eat space. Step by step, letter by letter, I touch more than the empty white background with my hands. Im still there, without control, living what it is only on my fingers. Yet. To work is to create this empty space in order to the one is coming. More than anything else, to write is retreats from oneself.
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Non-writing text
Friday, October 22Por: Broken Spanglish | En: Arts, Marguerite Duras, Non-Fiction |
This is a bilingual blog, bad lingual one, of the writer Lizabel Monica. Powered by Blogger.
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