#rootprints

Text ID: it begins with a burning in the chest, and afterwards it is called love.

Text ID: We know, […] where the other's vulnerable heart is situated; and we do not touch it; we leave it intact. This is love.

Text ID: Always in the process of betraying (ourself), of leaving (ourself).

Text ID: The word ‘entredeux’: it is a word I used recently in Déluge to designate a true in-between—between a life which is ending and a life which is beginning. For me, an entredeux is: nothing. It was, because there is entredeux. But it is—I will go through metaphors—a moment in a life where you are not entirely living, where you are almost dead. Where you are not dead. Where you are not yet in the process of reliving.

Text ID: It's that we do not stop being in the process of living, even when we are in the process of dying. At the edge of the tomb, we live,

Text ID: Fever, which is unbearable, is a defensive phenomenon. It is a combat. It is the same for suffering: in suffering there is a whole manœuvre of the unconscious, of the soul, of the body, that makes us come to bear the unbearable.

Text ID: Hélène Cixous: What is most true is poetic. What is most true is naked life. I can only attain this mode of seeing with the aid of poetic writing. I apply myself to 'seeing' the world nude, that is, almost to e-nu-merating the world, with the naked, obstinate, defenceless eye of my nearsightedness. And while looking very very closely, I copy. The word written nude is poetic.