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Forlag Anchor
Utgivelsesår 1998
Format Paperback
ISBN13 9780385491020
Språk Engelsk
Sider 480
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Start en diskusjon om verket Se alle diskusjoner om verketYou don't loook back along time but down trough it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away
This goes along with another belief of mine: that everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise
We are survivors, of each other
The past has become discontinuos, like stones skipped across water, like postcards
It disturbs me that he can remember some of these things about himself, but not others, that the things he's lost or misplaces exist now only for me. If he's forgotten so much, what have I forgotten?
The important parts exist in the silences between the words
I look at him with the nostalgic affection men are said to feel for their wars, their fellow veterans. I think, I once threw things at this man
My body is a separate thing. It ticks like a clock; times is inside it. It has betrayed me, and I am disgusted with it