Saturday, 11 December 2004

Alone, alone, entirely alone; I have never changed.

Absence is that hole into which one pours everything close to hand; anger, hope, happiness, maudlin despondency…. and yet the hole grows. It is without parallel and propels us into endless vacuum, thrusts us into expanse and forces the realisation that we all rely on social networks, on relevance, adaptation and perspective to justify ourselves. Absence is the moment of realisation, where the gossamer strands that bind knowledge are individually, and with great care, unwoven. The potential for dismemberment becomes real and tangible, like waking, alone, in the middle of the night, reading a novel.

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