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. . . . . entries for 20.2.08 . . . . . First paragraph of my Color draft, of which I am exceedingly proud: "Mute, without atmosphere to carry sound, without language to carry meaning, Qfwfq calls Ayl by name. She, the “supreme peak of beauty” (53), fascinates the strange narrator of Italo Calvino’s Without Colors even as she eludes him. He loves her without understanding her. Calvino leaves the search for comprehension, a no less weighty burden than love, to his readers. Fortunately, he also leaves us hints in the smallest details: Light by which to illuminate her character. We may, if conscience allows, color in Ayl for ourselves." Love is strange, in Calvino and elsewhere. Qfwfq - yeah, that's his name, Qfwfq - loves Ayl before he even knows what she is, let alone who she is. In the story, though, the reader needs to figure Ayl out. In real life, we only have ourselves to figure out, which is sometimes a miserable business. Color is a weird class. All my classes are weird, though. I don't do normal classes, and if I did do normal classes, I'd find them weird beyond weird.
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{ting} .:past:. April 2002 .:skin:. turtles! turtles! by araglas |