Jan 30 24
We have always been plagued by phantom hours and phantom months. That is, we are inclined to feel, that say between the hours of 3 AM and 4 AM or between the months of September and October there should be, at least another hour or month between. As it were, transition is always disturbingly past — the fruit always rotted before picking, the sands of summer cold, the stars of evening always invisible — in a day blue sky. And to be clear, this is not an advocacy for adding months to the calendar or hours to the clock — but, that we genuinely feel the absence of something that was never there.
When young we were the object/receptacle of an elder’s carnal solipsism; apparently a body image is something that does not like being outside of presupposition. It makes one’s self image late and loathsome; like an hourglass within a bell jar.
When young we were the object/receptacle of an elder’s carnal solipsism; apparently a body image is something that does not like being outside of presupposition. It makes one’s self image late and loathsome; like an hourglass within a bell jar.