I saw but a glimpse of his eagerness to be, his effortless telling of the truth- the truth and nothing more terrible or beautiful- and I hovered over my future and my memories, and I thought, I thought, cut with a sliver of Kafka’s own eagerness: ‘There is so much to write.‘
— *L, The End of A Dream
I have a blog where I post excerpts from books. These books do not exist. The titles, content and year the books were published are part of the piece itself.