Bokelskere.no

Man slutter ikke å lengte etter sin fars kjærlighet, selv ikke når man er voksen.

Men han forsto seg aldri på slike ting. Hverken i begynnelsen eller på slutten. Det var aldri mulig for ham å være der han var. Hele sitt liv var han et annet sted, mellom her og der. Men aldri egentlig her. Og aldri egentlig der.

O. to A. in conversation, describing what it felt like to have become an old man. O., now in his seventies, his memory failing, his face as wrinckled as a half-closed palm. Looking at A. and shaking his head with deadpan wit: "What a strange thing to happen to a little boy." Yes, it is possible that we do not grow up, that even as we grow old, we remain the children we always were. We remember ourselves as we were then, and we feel ourselves to be the same. We made ourselves into what we are now then, and we remain what we were, in spite of the years. We do not change for ourselves. Time makes us grow old, but we do not change.