…the Book Creates Meaning, The Meaning Creates

...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.

Is The Scene Always Visual? It Can Be Aural, The Frame Can Be Linguistic: I Can Fall In Love With A Sentence Spoken To Me: And Not Only Because It Says Something Which Manages To Touch My Desire, But Because Of Its Syntactical Turn (framing), Which Will Inhabit Me Like A Memory.

One Of The Marks Of Our World Is Perhaps This Reversal: We Live According To A Generalized Image-repertoire. Consider The United Sates, Where Everything Is Transformed Into Images: Only Images Exist And Are Produced And Are Consumes ... Such A Reversal Necessarily Raises The Ethical Question: Not That The Image Is Immoral, Irreligious, Or Diabolic (as Some Have Declared It, Upon The Advent Of The Photograph), But Because, When Generalized, It Completely De-realizes The Human World Of Conflicts And Desires, Under Cover Of Illustrating It.

The Politician Being Interviewed Clearly Takes A Great Deal Of Trouble To Imagine An Ending To His Sentence: And If He Stopped Short? His Entire Policy Would Be Jeopardized!

Le Langage Est Une Peau: Je Frotte Mon Langage Contre L'autre. Language Is A Skin; I Rub My Language Against Another Language.