I Am Interested In Language Because It

To Make Someone Wait: The Constant Prerogative Of All Power.

...what I Enjoy In A Narrative Is Not Directly Its Content Or Even Its Structure, But Rather The Abrasions I Impose Upon The Fine Surface: I Read On, I Skip, I Look Up, I Dip In Again. Which Has Nothing To Do With The Deep Laceration The Text Of Bliss Inflicts Upon Language Itself, And Not Upon The Simple Temporality Of Its Reading.

To Whom Could I Put This Question (with Any Hope Of An Answer)? Does Being Able To Live Without Someone You Loved Mean You Loved Her Less Than You Thought...?

Death Of The Father Would Deprive Literature Of Many Of Its Pleasures. If There Is No Longer A Father, Why Tell Stories? Doesn't Every Narrative Lead Back To Oedipus? Isn't Storytelling Always A Way Of Searching For One's Origin, Speaking One's Conflicts With The Law, Entering Into The Dialectic Of Tenderness And Hatred?

Usually The Amateur Is Defined As An Immature State Of The Artist: Someone Who Cannot — Or Will Not — Achieve The Mastery Of A Profession. But In The Field Of Photographic Practice, It Is The Amateur, On The Contrary, Who Is The Assumption Of The Professional: For It Is He Who Stands Closer To The (i)noeme(i) Of Photography.