More Last Words

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© Denise Startin

The Secret Language without a Secret

“It is not a noise, although at its approach everything becomes noise around us (and we must remember that we do not know today what such a noise might be.) Rather it is language: it speaks, it doesn’t stop speaking, it is like the void that speaks, a light murmuring, insistent, indifferent, that is probably the same for everyone, that is without secret and yet isolates each person, separates him from others, from the world and from himself, leading him through mocking labyrinths, drawing him always farther away, by a fascinating repulsion, below the ordinary world of daily speech. Continue reading

The Last Word

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Death of the Last Writer

“We can dream about the last writer, with whom would disappear, without anyone noticing it, the little mystery of writing. To give a touch of the fantastic to the situation, we can imagine that Rimbaud, even more mythical than the real one, hears that speech fall silent in him, and it dies with him. Finally we can suppose that, throughout the world circle of civilization, this final end would be noted. What would be the result? Apparently a great silence. That is what it is polite to say when some writer disappears: a voice has fallen silent, a way of thinking has disappeared. What a silence then if no-one else spoke in that exalted way that is the language of texts that come accompanied by the rumour of their reputation. Continue reading