[b]Jonathan Safran Foer
It took me as long as I had known him to get rid of all of his words.[/b]
So, how long before you get rid of all mine?
I brought the birdcages to the windows.
I opened the windows, and opened the birdcages.
I poured the fish down the drain.
I took the dogs and cats downstairs and removed their collars.
I released the insects onto the street.
And the reptiles.
And the mice.
I told them, Go.
All of you.
Go.
And they went.
And they didn’t come back.
Right, like they’d know how.
Silently the animal catches our glance. The animal looks at us, and whether we look away from the animal, our plate, our concern, ourselves or not, we are exposed. Whether we change our lives or do nothing, we have responded. To do nothing is to do something.
Like that settles anything.
In the end I was the clay and she was the sculptor, I thought, it’s a shame that we have to live, but it’s a tragedy that we get to live only one life, because if I’d had two lives, I would have spent one of them with her.
Take this to mean whatever you need it to mean. Or, more likely, whatever you want it to mean.
I can only hold on to the things I want to lose.
Wow, that can’t be good.
The difference between conceding and accepting is depression.
Well, it certainly can be that.