these wanderings take you towards the Other, towards others, be they your historical contemporaries, or, in the exploration of the 'I', those others others of the I itself. And within that journey lies another that tells the story of the quest of someone making her way in the dark, with her eyes closed, towards the light, in her joys, her suffering, her condition, her crimes too.
You take great risks along the way, entering territory where you don't know what you'll find.
listens to itself being written and retraces its own steps, that re-inscribes
We are feeding off ancient discourses
cultivated like a piece of land
throws out words like bait
What
As long as a woman is possessed and allows herself to be held, body + texts, the the interior of the old, paternal & capitalist structure that reduces and prostitutes her, and as long as a woman subjects herself to the law which recognises her only as a merchants object, she is forbidden to think, to progress, to produce the extraordinary, the original and the life.
the capacity that one has of being more intelligent than oneself
The unconcious strivings of ordinary life often hinder a person at a time when he ought to show improvement
How do you know action when you are not a man of action? We know action only by action. We can understand science only by science, form by form, meaning by meaning. There is no traveller on this road of action: if we act how can people perceive it and see us on the road? Indeed this action is not fasting and prayer. These are forms of action. Action is inward and deals with meaning.
the other is the main character
You talked about Dura's work as being something that you could hardly recall; a kind of writing full of power that was instantly draining away. And Focault replied, 'yes your right; it's a kind of memory without recollection.' I think then you spoke about loss in writing, that for Duras the loss is never ending, there is always more to lose.
it's about you and your relation to looking at something
