It Is Only Through The Confining Act

Sometimes One Who Thinks Himself Incomplete Is Merely Young.

It Is Only Through The Confining Act Of Writing That The Immensity Of The Nonwritten Becomes Legible

You Are About To Begin Reading Italo Calvino's New Novel, If On A Winter's Night A Traveler. Relax. Concentrate. Dispel Every Other Thought. Let The World Around You Fade. Best To Close The Door; The Tv Is Always On In The Next Room. Tell The Others Right Away, "no, I Don't Want To Watch Tv!" Raise Your Voice -- They Won't Hear You Otherwise -- "i'm Reading! I Don't Want To Be Disturbed!" Maybe They Haven't Heard You, With All That Racket; Speak Louder, Yell: "i'm Beginning To Read Italo Calvino's New Novel!" Or If You Prefer, Don't Say Anything: Just Hope They'll Leave You Alone.

Memory Is Redundant: It Repeats Signs So That The City Can Begin To Exist.

I Have Tried To Remove Weight, Sometimes From People, Sometimes From Heavenly Bodies, Sometimes From Cities; Above All I Have Tried To Remove Weight From The Structure Of Stories And From Language.