Brutal speechlessness: "I cannot speak" (gestures).
"The tongue is frozen on my stomach" (gestures).
Writing is the last tie to this body.
Life's last resort, writing announces nothingness and a strange fascination for suffering. Irretrievable certainties, irretrievable promises. No more words, no more solace beyond actual presence. The past was a threatening country, it was carefully bombed. Self-invention from ashes or self-reconciliation as ashes?
Nothing is me and nothing is mine.
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