For Ana, the Russian reader

What love knows is always thisness. Haecceitas. Dialogue is necessary but only on a gliding surface. The quiddity of whatness. My Russian speaking mother knew the distinction between reading and reading the other. The other of the other. The author has been dead for a while, and then resurrected. Now the other is both. “You are the master,” she said. “You know what love knows.” I bowed. She was a grand This. We all love our mothers, no matter What. The quiddity of matter is the haecceity of soul. Descartes got a good spanking from the Madonna, our Lady of the Spirit, and became an accidental tourist. Losing his head like that! Ahhh, being this woman! What bliss! Hylomorphism is a piece of cake in her mouth.


to-morrow said…
1. Mama ta era rusoaica iar tu te afli in tara nordica? Interesant. Esti cetatean universal :)
2. De unde e poza cu vitralii?
3. trebuie sa mai scotocesc prin blogul tau, desi ma impiedic de unele chestii cu tenta puternica filosofica. Acelea trebuie "mestecate" pe indelete.
Camelia said…
1. Mama nu era rusoaica, dar stia rusa.
2. De pe un site cu modern architecture (nu-mi amintesc numele exact).
3. Filozofia e cum e. Daca gindesti un pic, vine de la sine.

Lectura placuta.

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