"Wonderful sounds, the palms and banana trees make, like ladies running barefooted in silk skirts downstairs …"
— Tennessee Williams, letter to Maria Britneva, April 22, 1953 (qtd. in Olivia Laing’s The Trip to Echo Spring)
My religion makes no sense and does not help me therefore I pursue it
"I didn’t know what went on, or why what happened happened, it just did. Why, for instance, was I so obsessed, at the age of seven or eight, with looking at myself in the mirror, not just frontally, but from the sides and even from the back? I stood there on the bathroom floor with a small, round mirror in one hand, and directed it toward the large bathroom mirror in front of me at ever changing angles, so that I could see myself in varying forms of profile, and finally, from the back and from above, so that the back of my head and the nape of my neck became visible. What I saw made me very uncomfortable. So this is what I also looked like? I had gotten used to and accepted my face, but not this. But this is what other people saw, this is how I appeared to them, perhaps that is why I explored it. I felt a similar unease the first time I heard a recording of my own voice, and the first time I watched my own movements on a TV screen. It was alienating, I couldn’t possibly identify it with myself, the way I was, it made it seem as if I was suddenly also someone else. That it was this other person that everyone else saw and heard, bothered me. It still bothers me at times, the unease caused by non-identity."
— Karl Ove Knausgaard, “The Other Side of the Face”
Who ever desires what is not gone? No one. The Greeks were clear on this.