We Have Stopped Believing In

When I Wake Up, I Wake To Something Worse. It’s The Astonishment Of Being Myself

I Might Accept Immortality, If I Had To Do It. But I Would Prefer - If There Is Any Afterlife - To Know Nothing Whatever About Borges, About His Experiences In This World.

Reality May Avoid The Obligation To Be Interesting, But ... Hypotheses May Not.

Nowadays, One Of The Churches Of Tlön Maintains Platonically That Such And Such A Pain, Such And Such A Greenish-yellow Colour, Such And Such A Temperature, Such And Such A Sound, Etc., Make Up The Only Reality There Is. All Men, In The Climactic Instant Of Coitus, Are The Same Man. All Men Who Repeat One Line Of Shakespeare Are William Shakespeare.

Thus My Life Is A Flight And I Lose Everything And Everything Belongs To Oblivion, Or To Him.