reblogged from calling-home
2 am: moonlight. The train has stopped
out in the middle of the plain. Far away, points of light in a town,
flickering coldly at the horizon.
As when a man has gone into a dream so deep
he’ll never remember having been there
when he comes back to his room.
As when someone has gone into an illness so deep
everything his days were becomes a few flickering points, a swarm,
cold and tiny at the horizon.
The train is standing quite still.
2 am: bright moonlight, few stars.
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder. Czeslaw Milosz, from “Encounter,” trans. Milosz and Lillian Vallee (via proustitute)
This appears to be our mission, however humble or dubious
reblogged from skibinskipedia
“If I am not mistaken, the heterogeneous pieces I have enumerated resemble Kafka; if I am not mistaken, not all of them resemble each other. This second fact is more significant. In each of these texts we find Kafka’s idiosyncrasy to a greater or lesser degree, but if Kafka had never written a line, we would not perceive this quality; in other words, it would not exist.”
Jorge Luis Borges
Kafka and His Precursors