Thursday, 27 July 2017














"Three o'clock & suddenly awake amid the smell of dreams & the years come back and peopled and blown away again like smoke. A young woman am I, twenty nine, but I am as full of dreams as an ancient. At night the years come back & perch around my bed like ghosts.

But, as good as it is, my old place is used up (places get used up by rotatory and repetitive use) and when I awake, I wake in the grip of everydayness. Everydayness is the enemy. No search is possible. Perhaps there was a time when everydayness was not too strong and one could break its grip by brute strength. Now nothing breaks it - but disaster. Only once in my life was the grip of everydayness broken: when I lay bleeding in a ditch.

In a sudden rage and, as if I had been seized by a fit, I roll over & fall in a heap on the floor & lie shivering on the boards, worse off than the miserablest muskrat in the swamp. Nevertheless, I vow: I'm a son of a bitch if I'll be defeated by the everydayness.

(The everydayness is everywhere now, having begun in the cities & seeking out the remotest nooks and corners of the countryside, even the swamps.)"



-The Moviegoer,  Walker Percy
-Photo Credit:  Billie Billie

























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