was the living of endless repetitions, the thousands of equivalences that are known as continual by means of the time flow and through the time flow. Everything marked with repetitiveness by mind is therefore stripped of particular, simplified and flattened to ensure its recurrent pattern, for were it not for the desalination of being, nothing could not have been considered repetitive. Repetition is not the matter of things, but of feelings. The shift of the wondrous gear on one notch begets nostalgia; the nostalgia is the knowledge that repetition has never occurred in a proper manner and the desire which contradicts the knowledge. The repetition is suspended between not achieving the repetition, and achieving it in the form of the monotonous reproduction of ennui. The nostalgia is the desire of a transformed repetition, and the boredom is the prolonged tasting of the slightly shifted circle of repetition. Etc.etc.
Posted on: Sat, 08 Mar 2014 04:51:15 +0000