Riddle (Laura Kasischke)
Images and secret meanings, wanderings that lead to strange destinations, these are the things that interest me in literature. Both as a writer and a reader, I want to find myself in broad daylight in the middle of the night, and to only be able to find the reason for this through guesswork, metaphor, and music. Most days I cling to a single word. It is a mild-mannered creature made of thought. Future, or Past. Never the other, obvious word. Whenever I reach out to touch that one, it scurries away. Even my identity has been kept hidden from me. It is a child’s ghost buried in mud. It is an old woman waving at me from a passing train. First, a multiplication. Then, a densification. Then, a pale thing draped carelessly over a bone. Four weeks after my conception, I was given a tail. But then God had some mystical vision of all I might be—and took the tail back. It required no violence, no surgery, no struggle, this quiet thievery, this snatching away of the deep, ancient secret. It would be true of everything.
Pour citer cette ressource :
Laura Kasischke, "Riddle (Laura Kasischke)", La Clé des Langues [en ligne], Lyon, ENS de LYON/DGESCO (ISSN 2107-7029), mai 2014. Consulté le 24/09/2023. URL: https://cle.ens-lyon.fr/anglais/litterature/entretiens-et-textes-inedits/riddle-laura-kasischke-