online: 31 may 2018
modified: 5 april 2018
5 april 2018 a day in early
spring
gorse and daffodils in vivid bloom... warmer air and dry... but cold
wind to the touch... first sight this year of details of distant tall
buidings visible several miles away... and glad to be able to walk on
previously muddy paths... already becoming drier and safer ... all this
discerned from the highest seat...
the wind having become almost still for a few minutes i have the brief
impression that spring is indeed here (and the days of winter struggle
are over)
but now the wind blows and cold hands provoke me to rise... and to walk
to next the destination... which may be warmer
on the way through a surprising pathway (set amongst the highest
branches of trees set on a steep, near vertical, slope)... i remarked
(to an elderly walker) on the welcome dryness of the muddy paths
today... to which she replied and when you're going downhill it's no
joke...
eventually i reached the bookshop-cafe but was too late for a hot
drink... instead could have a glass of cold water... which i drank
while reading the beginning of Paul Austers New York Trilogy...
how is it i've read so few of his works?... they seem to be full of
liberating attempts at a fiction fit for the 20-21st century...
...the first few pages include an imaginary detective, an imaginary
writer of the novel (who is both a fictional character and the actual
Paul Auster plus their imaginary agents ) or am i already misreading the
complexity?... probably yes...
but even if incorrect this portrayal is enough perhaps to reveal the
submersion of the novel in what could be called imaginary fiction
(over-flowing with Cartesian doubts and liberation from fictional
certitudes (from which the writer of this diary jumps into a new kind of
fiction here and now... he hopes!)
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