“Instead of forever hovering above I’d like to feel a weight grow in me to end the infinity and to tie me to earth. [ … ] To sit at an empty place at a card table and be greeted, even by a nod. [ … ] No, I don’t have to beget a child or plant a tree but it would be rather nice coming home after a long day to feed the cat, like Philip Marlowe, to have a fever and blackended fingers from the newspaper, to be excited not only by the mind but, at last, by a meal, by the line of a neck by an ear. [ … ] As you’re walking, to feel your bones moving along.”
