New posts at Red Thread(s) arrive by way of the long silences that lie between them. By way of them, trailing silence behind them like a comet’s tail, I know they have travelled an enormous distance.
How can ineloquence let itself be said? Bear the fragmentary at the heart of writing, not merely as its form. Fragmentary demand: eloquence torn apart from inside, writing voided of its heart. Or writing turns around the void at its centre, turns, and by the opposite of a centripedal force. But how to hold together what spins itself apart?
Lars Iyer's Blog 