The freedom of speaking in an empty room.

Miracle d’un seul vers après tant de silence !
tobiasfreeman.fr/2021/04/mirac
Comme le Christ, qui n'a écrit que sur le sable.

Mastodon. The feel of an anarchist Twitter.

we regret to inform you that, though you may hope, you will never live your lives to the fullest
Ну, стало быть, вот вам и опыт, стало быть, и нельзя жить, взаправду «отсчитывая счетом». Почему-нибудь да нельзя же.
— Да, почему-нибудь да нельзя же, — повторил князь...
The Prince's hope, that the experience of near-death might impart meaning to life, is in vain. What he fails to realize, what Dostoevsky's novel affirms, is that death and failure are never avoided; they are just put off.


My thinking is that the egg of a winged statue is the egg of an angel. Which is a contradiction. Angels are the winged creatures that cannot reproduce. They are only created. And as if for good measure, the statue is already inanimate. Nonexistence is overdetermined. Welcome to the dead land, the empty land, 's cactus land.
tobiasfreeman.fr/2021/03/la-vi

The first poem in the La Vie section of La Vie l'Amour la Mort le Vide et le Vent. Mine are journeyman's translations. I'm interested in sense alone. I endorse 's nihilistic theory of translation here. Poetry is inseparable from the language it's written in. The art of translation is no art. The best translation can aspire to is noise reduction, clearing space for the original to be less misunderstood. Beyond the minimum there is only excess.
tobiasfreeman.fr/2021/03/la-vi

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