I hated

The Aleph.

I hated how pretentious it sounded talking about time and space.
I don't worship language. i barely respect it.

I am glad it was destroyed.
I hate trying to think about everything at once. I hated the paragraph where he tried to do it.

I absolutely hate the woman. I hate the man's fawning and what he remembers about her. the pictures of what she did. because i am scared of how i will live when i die.

Beatriz what a bitch.
though of course he rendered her subtly and beautifully, another dead woman. a naked dead woman in art. a naked dead woman sole obsession of a man who ages without her. i have a picture in my head. she is the aleph. she was once everything kaleidoscope telescope dream goddess. then she is a photograph. so she was never actually anything but a photograph. and when he stops going to look at the photograph, she was never even a photograph.

I hate to think about how cruel it is that memories morph and distort and disappear.
I also hate to think how wonderful it is.

There was never paradise.
the memories i have of you i can count on one hand. is that the extent to which you live?


masolino (aleph=tree of the knowledge of good and evil)


rothko (and i think he was closer to representing ALL)