On the Death of Jean Vigo
The day was silent to distraction,
only the dog’s growl traveled beyond the window
undulating slightly, barely eschewing
the bellows of the echo. A person—
that’s something interior (therefore,
incapable of habituating itself to Being).
To rise, get out of bed, handle a book,
open a responsive door—
no more than trifles,
but these ministrations are mystical rites when
they are inspired by a...
Where, and by whom writing was first developed remains unknown, but scholars place the beginning of writing at 6,000