Lars Saabye Christensen
:: The Half Brother
She had lain down with her red slippers on and both feet had gone to sleep - yes, her feet were the only part of her that ever got any sleep. She tried to rub them but couldn't reach down, despite being already bent. Instead she just sat and waited for her toes to wake up again. That was what growing old meant - waiting for your toes to wake up.
... we hang by a thin thread, a thread composed of chance's shadow.
... a lie is just what one adds to make the broken edges that constitute the narrative's ruler fit back together.
Perhaps the moment is just like a stamp which loses its jagged edges and which slowly but surely rises in value in your private collection ...
A place is not a place before a person has been there. A person isn't a person before they have a place in which to be.