The lover’s solitude is not a solitude of person (love confides, speaks, tells itself), it is a solitude of system: I am alone in making a system out of it (perhaps because I am ceaselessly flung back on the solipsism of my discourse). A difficult paradox: I can be understood by everyone (love comes from books, its dialect is a common one), but I can be heard (received ‘prophetically’) only by subjects who have exactly and right now the same language I have.
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Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments, trans. Richard Howard (via proustitute) (Source: leproustitute.blogspot.com) |
Grotto in an iceberg, photographed during the British Antarctic Expedition of 1911-1913, 5 Jan 1911 from The National Library NZ on The Commons
Got a pic of the new subway. I like it. But during rush hour the sitting people will become standing people supports.
