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| Don't jump |
And there he stands, aloof and unafraid to be at the highest point of a town full of towers and high points. You will have to look carefully at the figure on the edge of the right hand building but the boy Icarus followed me to Tuscany - is there ever a more beautiful place in all of Europe? But being back means being back to a kind of reality, although I have been writing and the reality is broken up with the imagination which seems to carry a story forward. The story is in my head, unformed and anarchic and there are a number of great characters forming stories within stories and its all very exciting, I think. At least thus far. I have no doubt the self-doubt will cut in but that is for tomorrow. Today, I will write some more and let tomorrow take care of itself as I pluck my characters from a circus spotlight and plunge them into darkness and disquieting strangeness. Freud says, "Concerning the factors of silence, solitude and darkness, we can only say that they are actually elements in the production of the infantile anxiety from which the majority of human beings have never become quite free..." grist to the mill for the fabulist. And as Maurice Blanchot has written, "Those who think they see ghosts are those who do not want to see the night..." Just the place I need to take them - oh the temptations, just my imagination, running away with me...
