homage fragments assembly

This is the feed, where I will collect the fragments of text. I call these the ‘seeds’.

The seeds will be published in no particular order. Some time in the future the seeds can be rearranged, assembled into a composition. This composition will be called The Book of Uncertainty.

 Verso

In these random impressions, and with no desire to be other than random, I indifferently narrate my factless autobiography, my lifeless history. These are my Confessions, and if in them I say nothing, it’s because I have nothing to say.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, fragment 12

 Recto

What makes us yawn, which we call boredom, what makes us fidget and is known as discomfort, and what makes us practically immobile, namely weariness – none of these things is tedium; but neither is tedium the profound sense of life’s emptiness that causes frustrated ambition to surface, disappointed longings to rise up, and the seed to be planted in the soul of the  future mystic or saint.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, fragment 381