You once wrote, in French, that I was your "first passion."
And why does that not count for something
today? All alone, I hunger for a
word of kindness, affirmation of my
existence. Especially from a
famous wise man like you.
You say the past is gone, then you comment
that Faulkner said all we have is past. Please note
that one second ago is already past;
at least it can be remembered.
The future? Anticipated, at best,
with mounting dread as it hurries on to
become the past. And so I am nothing;
nobody; a living monument that
past, present, future are equally lost.
em
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