The next morning the same old light bled through the clouds and between the spaces of the\u00a0sun-bleached blinds where it died on the floor as \u201cThe Sad Cafe\u201d played, and I turned in bed to silence\u00a0the alarm.<\/p>\n
I thought of Heidegger–“Only a god can save us now.”–and of Faulkner–“I don’t. I don’t! I don’t hate it! I don’t hate it!\u201d The f\u00fchrer and the fury, or its cousin.<\/p>\n
The sun neither sets nor rises. Instead we close our eyes and call it night while the earth is thrown by an abscess of light like moths by a flame who on passing too close fall from flight with torched wings, burning down the bowels of morality.<\/p>\n
I realized that I would one day\u00a0go blind if I kept reading in the morning without my glasses, so I got up, stepped into a hot shower and tried to wash the weakness from my eyes.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The next morning the same old light bled through the clouds and between the spaces of the\u00a0sun-bleached blinds where it died on the floor as \u201cThe Sad Cafe\u201d played, and I turned in bed to silence\u00a0the alarm. I thought of … Continue reading