listening to each house you enter,
like the limbs of a single tree
the quality of the Russian soul
daunting set of arbitraryrules and self-imposed constraints that stipulate the text's raw materials catch the writer up in what strikes one as a neurotic net, an intricate artifice that stretches his intelligence to its ludic limits.
generates a distinctive texture; by a kind of exfoliation, from a text determined by these lists and plans there emerges a visceral feeling for the little things in life.
terminological exactitude
he’ll simply have learned a new way of doing an old trick
emotional non-ambiguity
Nurturing a yen for solitariness
deliciously strange feeling that time is nothing, or is my friend rather than my enemy