Un été sans les hommes

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krupatato9 июля 2025 г.
I had the thought that my mother was a place for me as well as a person.
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krupatato9 июля 2025 г.
Time is not outside us, but inside. Only we live with past, present, and future, and the present is too brief to experience anyway; it is retained afterward and then it is either codified or it slips into amnesia. Consciousness is the product of delay.
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krupatato9 июля 2025 г.
“There was a storm last night,” I said, “a big one. I liked it.” I was rambling, but that was good, free association. “It was like listening to my own rage, but rage with real power, big, masculine, godlike, magisterial, paternal bangs in the heavens, the kind of thundering rage that makes the lackeys hop to, a baritone roar shaking the sky. I could almost feel the town move.”

“You think if your anger had power, paternal power, you could shape things in your life more to your liking. Is that what you mean?”

Is that what I meant? “I don’t know.”

“Is it perhaps that you felt your father’s emotions had power in the family, power over your mother, your sister, and you, and you were always stepping around his feelings, trying not to upset him. And you’ve felt the same thing in your marriage, perhaps reproduced the same story, and all the while you’ve gotten angrier and angrier?”
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