Finished my huge watercolor and finished W. G. Sebald's Austerlitz. The first is my own dream and I can go with the strange of it. The second began as a dreamy, detached, melancholic memory excavation, and then someone slips a knife through the heart of the man and out spills the stars, his unfound life's blood, and the backswept ghosts of the dissapeared. It is profoundly sad & beautiful in a very sudden & silent way.
1 comment:
The Rings of Saturn is another good Sebald.
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