Mark it here, that which will not be arrested by a mark. Let it speak itself here, that which will not bring itself to speech. But it has no ‘itself’, unless this indicates a wandering without cease, the darkness on the other side of time. ‘Itself’ – infinite detour; passage into passage, without a promised land.
Unless the wandering is itself promise, and the incessant a kind of freedom into which writing would set itself. To reach writing’s desire, not your own. Or to let your desire catch fire with the desire of writing, cold flame that does not burn.
Nothing will begin here. Nothing finishes. What do you want to achieve? What do you desire? I want the interval to be lost in me. I desire time to turn me over to eternity. ‘I’: but this word, now, is cited by another speech. ‘I’: echoing in vain, having never discovered itself.
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