lispector-night

October 15, 2024

The dense, dark night was cut down the middle, split into two black blocks of sleep. Where was she? Between the two pieces, looking at them (the one she had already slept and the one she had yet to sleep), isolated in the timeless and the spaceless, in an empty gap. This stretch would be subtracted from her years of life.

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Thought:

“Only a literalist at loving would expect to plug ahead like the highway people’s line machine, straight over hill and dale, unwavering and ready, in a single stripe of kiss and covering, steady on

FROM

START

TO

FINISH”

William H. Gass

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