{"id":837,"date":"2014-06-07T14:16:46","date_gmt":"2014-06-07T14:16:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/?page_id=837"},"modified":"2022-04-24T07:01:33","modified_gmt":"2022-04-24T07:01:33","slug":"beforeispokeofclearperiods","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/beforeispokeofclearperiods\/","title":{"rendered":"beforeispokeofclearperiods"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p>Before, I spoke of <a href=\"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/myuglylove\">clear<\/a> periods, those on which the <a href=\"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/ilovethehandful\">light<\/a> fell. Now I&#8217;m talking about the <a href=\"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/\/darknessisyourcountry\">hidden<\/a> stretches of that same <a href=\"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/iamgrownup\">youth<\/a>, of certain facts, feelings, events that I buried. I started to write in surroundings that drove me to reticence. Writing, for those people, was still something moral. Nowadays it often seems <a href=\"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/allwritingisconfession\">writing<\/a> is nothing at all. Sometimes I realize that if writing isn&#8217;t, all things, all contraries confounded, a quest for <a href=\"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/yourestillafetus\">vanity and void<\/a>, its nothing. That if it&#8217;s not, each time, all things confounded into one through some inexpressible essence, then <a href=\"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/cantsleep\">writing<\/a> is nothing but advertisement. But usually I have no opinion, I can see that all options are open now, that there seem to be no more barriers, that <a href=\"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/ikeeptryingtocapture\">writing<\/a> seems at a loss from somewhere to <a href=\"https:\/\/alfabus.us\/madness-has-its-reasons\/mywitchself\">hide<\/a>, to be written, to be read. That its basic unseemliness is no longer accepted. But at that point I stop thinking about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.france.diplomatie.fr\/label_france\/ENGLISH\/LETTRES\/DURAS\/duras.html\" target=\"frame\" rel=\"noopener\"><br>Marguerite Duras<\/a>. The lover<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Before, I spoke of clear periods, those on which the light fell. Now I&#8217;m talking about the hidden stretches of that same youth, of certain facts, feelings, events that I buried. I started to write in surroundings that drove me to reticence. Writing, for those people, was still something moral. Nowadays it often seems writing [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":103,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.alfabus.us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/837"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.alfabus.us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.alfabus.us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.alfabus.us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.alfabus.us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=837"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.alfabus.us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/837\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.alfabus.us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/103"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.alfabus.us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=837"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}