Jess

“By her anguish; she made the sacrifice, full of strangeness, of her certainty that she existed, in order to give a sense to this nothingness of love which she had become. and thus, deep within her, already sealed, already dead, the most profound passion came to be.”
― Maurice Blanchot, Thomas the Obscure

“- My mystery is simple: I don't know how to be alive. - Because you only know, or only knew, how to be alive through pain.”
― Clarice Lispector, An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures

“• "Not you, not I: the forgetting will forget me in you, and the impersonal remembrance will efface me from that which remembers.”
― Maurice Blanchot, Awaiting Oblivion

“Slow slow movements lifting over and under me. A distance from what has been preoccupying me. I walked along the cliff edge, feet holding the earth, the light around soft, sky so white. Then I knew I had experienced a kind of madness. Coming back to my body, a sense that I was perhaps someone else, some drifting thing that at least had found somewhere for inhabiting, not to remember happiness—just curiosity.

There has been a death recently no one has occupied the body since.

If going outside my body and I lose my ego what happens next? It no longer matters.”
― Ann Quin, Passages