Thursday, September 23, 2004

The thing itself

Nothing can be said about reality that is not error: so it is claimed. Because words are always one step removed from the thing itself. They are representations, maps, not the real thing. And yet...I dare to make pronouncements, using nouns, verbs, and other wordlike entities, claiming to convey something about the real nature of things. It is not so incongruous to do so when one recognizes that reality itself is a fiction, a fabrication, a story. Then it becomes not an error to describe it but more like a sacred duty. Because the story desires for itself to be told. It burns to be delivered into being by that medium which is its own nature. In the beginning was the word. That is why we find ourselves telling our stories incessantly, inhabiting our own fictions. And in the end? We don't know the ending. We are telling the story to find out.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Et comme l'espérance est violente