Claudio Magris

Perhaps writing is really filling in the black spaces in existence, that nullity which suddenly yawns wide open in the hours and the days, and appears between the objects in the room, engulfing them in unending desolation and insignificance.

Fear invents names as to distract itself.

The traveller reads and takes note of the names, of stations his train passes through , at the corners of the streets where his footsteps lead him; and he goes on his way with a breath of relief, satisfied with that rhythmic order of nothingness.


/Danubio.


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