'One cannot speak anymore of being, one must speak only of mess.' - Samuel Beckett

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Que sais-je? Ecce Homo

Resolve, dissolve. 'I've plenty of time to blow it all skyhigh, this circus where it is enough to breath to qualify for asphyxiation...' Beckett, The Unnamable.

'Having exceeded a certain point of tension, the tide stops and begins to ebb, the atmosphere becomes unclear and troubled, possibilities fade and decline into a void, the crazy grey poppies of excitement scatter into ashes.' Bruno Schulz, The Street of Crocodiles