Friday, October 25

"Our homes overgrown with junk, papers, knickknacks. Shelves piled with the clothing of the dead and of the children who have grown, and so are also dead.
Desks full of mementos and faded letters. To live in such a domestic graveyard. That's how I live.
Time flies, and sleep opens ever greater chasms in time. Time becomes a second graveyard, a graveyard in the depths of consciousness.
To throw it all out would mean to die. So now a third graveyard, the one that waits.
I live in three cemeteries."
 - Anna Kamienska
In That Great River: A Notebook

  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov