“Sincerity” lõik

bedtaolin

As one had to expect very little—almost nothing—from life, Aaron knew, one had to be grateful, not always be trying to seize the days, not like some maniac of living, but to give oneself up, be seized by the days, the months and years, be taken up in a froth of sun and moon, some pale and smoothie’d river-cloud of life, a long, drawn-out and gray sort of enlightenment, so that when it was time to die, one did not scream swear words and knock things down, did not make a scene, but went easily, with understanding and tact, and quietly, in a lightly pummeled way, having been consoled—having allowed to be consoled—by the soft and generous worthlessness of it all, having allowed to be massaged by the daily beating of life, instead of just beaten.

And Aaron felt that he could allow this, could give himself up in this way.

Tao Lin “Sincerity” novellikogumikust “Bed”