"That the other has no meaning except the infinite aid which I owe him -- that he should be the unlimited call for help to which none but I can answer -- does not make me irreplaceable; still less does it make me unique. But it causes me to disappear in the infinite movement of service where I am only temporarily singular and a simulacrum of unity. I cannot draw any justification (either for my worth as a stand-in or for my being) from a demand that is not addressed to anyone in particular, that demands nothing of my determination and that in any case exceeds me to such a degree that it disindividualizes me."
-- Blanchot, from The Writing of the Disaster
glenn gould - aria, bach's goldberg variations, bwv 988
No comments:
Post a Comment