It occurs to me that I really can't remember your face in any precise detail. Only the way you walked away through the tables in the café, your figur… - Franz Kafka

L'éternité, c'est long ... surtout vers la fin.

I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones. Basically it is nothing other than this fear we have so often talked about, but fear spread to everything, fear of the greatest as of the smallest, fear, paralyzing fear of pronouncing a word, although this fear may not only be fear but also a longing for something greater than all that is fearful.

The door could not be heard slamming; they had probably left it open, as is the custom in homes where a great misfortune has occurred.