The lucky ones
Jag läser en bok som jag redan efter 30 sidor är väldigt, väldigt förtjust i. Rachel Cusk heter författarinnan och hon skriver på ett lite annorlunda sätt. Ett sätt som ger liv till historien, som kastar läsaren in i karaktärens tankegångar och känslor. Hon hoppar väldigt effektivt mellan konversation och en karaktärs tankar. Och jag känner igen mig. Just nu handlar det om Martin och hans känslor skulle lika gärna kunna vara mina. Han deltar i konversationer, men är inte riktigt med. Han pratar men har egentligen inte något att tillägga.
Snubblade över ett par rader jag verkligen fastnade för. Jag tänkte dela med mig av dem.
"He could not think without knowing that he was thinking, could not be without this sense that he was witnessing himself from a critical distance. When had his life, as something lived, ended? It struck him that time was perhaps no more than the passage of certain feelings."
[...]
"He felt as though he was walking further and further out, on a tightrope that led nowhere, so that every step he took was part of the retraction he must make to get back to where he had been."
Snubblade över ett par rader jag verkligen fastnade för. Jag tänkte dela med mig av dem.
"He could not think without knowing that he was thinking, could not be without this sense that he was witnessing himself from a critical distance. When had his life, as something lived, ended? It struck him that time was perhaps no more than the passage of certain feelings."
[...]
"He felt as though he was walking further and further out, on a tightrope that led nowhere, so that every step he took was part of the retraction he must make to get back to where he had been."
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