Resurrection Saturday

I'm back! And already I'm half-tempted to change the format of this site. No decent resurrection should ever happen without the fireworks. Willi, I've started looking for Sebald and Baker already. Too bad the only recollection I have of ever having held Austerlitz was in a booksale branch long closed. A boy. In black and white. And back then, it seemed like an odd book I thought I would never be interested in. U and I, on the other hand, must have been in aeon books. And yes, because, again, my taste wasn't as complicated as it probably is now, it too slipped past my hands. I will tell you how the writing and the reading goes.

It's a variation of regret: the regret of books not bought, long lost, and forsaken to someone else's whim (or wisdom). Nothing too bad though that's worthy of deep rumination here. It's covered up by other regrets, bigger losses.

Em, yes, I can spell write, right? And vera mau jud, mabasa ra jud. Kinsay dili mabasa walay silbi. Kinsaiy dili mabasa dili ma-unay.

Appetite has a way of ruining itself. By satisfying itself.

If, in the end, you deny yourself the satisfaction of a selfish grip of the day. Then I know you have long forsaken the pleasure of reading, of writing. You cannot understand. You will never.