hunksaredead

And emptiness yawns like a bear awakened from its slumber.

The absence of absence is the worst form of absence. People tell me that I’m absent, all the time. I don’t know if this is some sort of metaphysical absence which involves space travel (believe me I want to be anywhere but here in this lecture theatre) or that somewhere along the way, I stopped living, stopped being..me. I want to be absent, how else do you deal with loneliness except as a ghost? Do ghosts feel that much? Do ghosts feel irrepressible urges to crawl into someone’s arms and lie there for eternity?

Someone told me last week that we need to die many times in order to carry on living. Hmm.