the fissure


The here and now, the stretches of time, the places, the lives and the I present themselves as fissured, or rather, fissure continually. The field of reality, discourse included, fissures in its entirety, like a struck glass…

No longer will there be night and day… Henceforth it is fissured day and fissured night. And it is in the minuscule chink of this fissure that the stilus is styled, in the precarious, reciprocal balance of enigma and demonstration.

Jean-Francois Lyotard   The Confession of Augustine


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s