Today, I dream of the impossible journal, the journal with no pages and no writing – the journal that is like a flame burning only itself. Purity. The word before the first word. The contentless opening of writing.
Today, I dream of the impossible journal, the journal with no pages and no writing – the journal that is like a flame burning only itself. Purity. The word before the first word. The contentless opening of writing.
Lars Iyer's Blog 