Ownwanted Isolation

I want to condemn myself by an ownwanted isolation and exile … I want to be dissolved in the words and never came out … I want to forget myself … run … run … and run away far from the distances … It was all a mistake … my birth … my death … and my lif's game … The words fall in my brain and my body beigins to trembling in the wind .

(18 october 2007)

N.M

Samuel Beckett

It's a lie . I can't stir . I havn't stired . (I launch the voice? I hear a voice .) There is nowhere but here . There are not two places, there are not two prisons . It's my parlour (it's a parlour!), where I wait for nothing . I don't know where it is, I don't know what it's like, that's no business of mine . I don't know if it's big, or if it's small, or if it's closed, if it's open . (That's right, reiterate : that helps you on .) Open on what ? There is nothing else, only it . Open on the void, open on the nothing . (I've no objection : those are words .) Open on the silence, looking out on the silence, straight out – why not? All this time on the brink of silence, I knew it! On a rock, lashed to a rock, in the midst of silence . Its great swell rears twards me, I'm streaming with it .(It's an image : those are words .) It's a body, it's not I – I knew it wouldn't be I . I'm not outside, I'm inside, I'm in something, I'm shut up: the silence is outside . Nothing but this voice and the silence all round . No need of walls? Yes, we must have walls: I need walls, good and thick . I need a prison (I was right), for me alone . I'll go there now, I'll put me in it .

The Unnamable