Withdrawal, of

09/03/2015 § Σχολιάστε


Evoked and celebrated. I mean this; unobtrusive beauty. Hell. Notoriously difficult. I mean to define that is. No, not to do with Samuel Johnson’s “heterogeneous ideas yoked by violence together”; I mean some kind of attentiveness and contemplation and the sense of withdrawal or the sense of the sarcastic in a prayer for the repose of his soul. Hoping you’re well and not in hell. Nice change of air. Out of the fryingpan of life into the fire purgatory. Well. Yes. Not poetry. More like comradeship sharing tiny dreams; and great wounds. Yes, we must certainly whisper of wounds and of carnivorous feelings, underlining the latter. I recall. The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay in on the coffin. Mr Bloom turned his face. No culpability. Characters should run along; flawed characters comfortably relying on emptiness. Anonymous characters. Remote corners. Under our


Italics: Excerpts from James Joyce’s Ulysses


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