MANSFIELD SPOKE OF her habit of keeping a journal as being garrulous…I must say nothing affords me the same relief. Reading her journals presents a dilemma. Several times she directly addressed the readers—her posterity—in a taunting manner. I would prefer to distrust her. But it would be dishonest not to acknowledge the solace of reading them. Not having the exact language for the bleakness I felt, I devoured her words like thirst-quenching poison. Is it possible that one can be held hostage by someone else’s words? What I underlined and reread: Are they her thoughts or mine?
‘There is nought to do but WORK, but how can I work when this awful
weakness makes even the pen like a walking stick.
There is something profound & terrible in this eternal desire to establish contact.
It is astonishing how violently a big branch shakes when a silly little
bird has left it. I expect the bird knows it and feels immensely arrogant.
One only wants to feel sure of another. That’s all.
I realise my faults better than anyone else could realise them. I know exactly where I fail.
Have people, apart from those far away people, ever existed for me? Or have they always failed me, and faded because I denied them reality? Supposing I were to die, as I sit at this table, playing with my indian paper knife—what would be the difference. No difference at all. Then why don’t I commit suicide?’
stem: yiyun li
titel: to speak is to blunder but I venture
perspectief: There is no ladder out of any world; each world is rimless. —Amy Leach, Things That Are
bron: dear friend, from my life I write to you in your life
mopw: meerstemmige encyclopedie