Elsewhere

"I tried to think where I wanted to be. I considered the conclusion that I wanted to be right here, doing what I was doing, heading South towards Dalian on the China coast.
Perhaps it was a simple choice - of being home or being elsewhere.
Surely this was elsewhere?"

Paul Theroux, Riding the Iron Rooster

Anche questa domenica
Ho girato
Ho guardato
la citta' sempre piena
C'ho provato ma
non c'e'
nessuno
come te

(LB)

"She asked her father, my great-grandfather, your great-great-great-grandfather, to buy her a dove. Instead he bought her a silk scarf. So she thought of the scarf as a dove. She even convinced herself that it contained flight, but it did not fly, because it did not want to show anyone what it really was.
That was how much she loved her father"

Jonathan Safran Foer - Extremely loud and incredibly close

Contando
i passi
cammino', pensando
a come da bambino un numero dispari
significava la morte
Scarpe bagnate,
mani irrigidite per il freddo
anche ora

Il tempo
fa passare
tante cose
penso', camminando
dimenticando quelle lanciette
ora impazzite, ora insopportabilmente
lente

Continua
sono sempre io
ma non se ne accorse
Il paesaggio era cambiato
Le scarpe non gli andavano piu'
Torniamo indietro
a sognare
il futuro

(LB)

Think: If Ludwig were alive today
tooling around in his red sports
car
roof down
he'd pick up all these mad
hard cases on the boulevards
we'd get music like we
never heard before
and he'd still never
ever find his
Beloved

Charles Bukowski

"We manufacture stories, after all, from the fleeting sensory material that bombards us at every instant, a fragmented series of pictures, conversations, odors, and the touch of things and people. We delete most of it to live with some semblance of order, and the reshuffling of memory goes on until we die."

'Who's the Ghosty Boy?' Erica asked, (..)
'He's a boy in my dreams'
'Do you dream about him a lot?' I asked.
Matt nodded. 'He doesn't have a face and he can't talk, but he can fly. Not like Peter Pan, just a little bit off the ground and then he sinks down. Sometimes he's here, but other times he's away'
'Where does he go?' Erica asked.
'I don't know. I've never been there'
'Does he have a name,' I said, 'Other than Ghosty Boy?'
'Yes, but he can't talk, Dad, so he can't say!'
'Oh yes, I forgot'
'He doesn't frighten you, does he , Matt?'Erica said.
'No, Mom,' he said. 'He's kind of in me, you see. Half in me, and half out of me, and I know he's not really real.'

Siri Hustvedt, What I loved