It has been my face. It's got older still, or course, but less, comparatively, than it would otherwise have done. It's scored with deep, dry wrinkles, the skin is cracked. But my face hasn't collapsed, as some with fine feature have done. It's kept the same contours, but its substance has been laid waste. I have a face laid waste.
Marguerite DurasI often think of the image only I can see now, and of which Iโve never spoken. Itโs always there, in the same silence, amazing. Itโs the only image of myself I like, the only one in which I recognize myself, in which I delight
Marguerite DurasIn heterosexual love there's no solution. Man and woman are irreconcilable, and it's the doomed attempt to do the impossible, repeated in each new affair, that lends heterosexual love its grandeur.
Marguerite DurasI meet you. I remember you. Who are you? Youโre destroying me. Youโre good for me. How could I know this city was tailor-made for love? How could I know you fit my body like a glove? I like you. How unlikely. I like you. How slow all of a sudden. How sweet. You cannot know. Youโre destroying me. Youโre good for me. Youโre destroying me. Youโre good for me. I have time. Please, devour me. Deform me to the point of ugliness. Why not you? Why not you in this city and in this night, so like other cities and other nights you can hardly tell the difference? I beg of you.
Marguerite Duras