from “The English Patient”

Her life with others no longer interests him. He wants only her stalking beauty, her theatre of expressions. He wants the minute secret reflection between them, the depth of field minimal, their foreignness intimate like two pages of a closed book.

– Michael Ondaatje


it’s always puzzled me that the ones i have the most chemistry with never bother to read anything i write, don’t care what i cook, don’t ask what i’m reading. they’re certainly not checking this blog. they could know so much more about me if they did, but perhaps passion can’t be translated this way, it can’t be detailed in dating profiles, or articulated in acquaintance. it’s the ones that can make me shut up and demand only my undivided presence that unhinge me. or maybe it’s someone else they want or i offer.


4 thoughts on “from “The English Patient”

  1. Always love Michael Ondaatje. He’s writing fiction, but it’s more like poetry (Marilynne Robinson, too).

    As for your comment, I have felt and thought those exact things, many times over the past 20 years. I can say that the alternative is possible, but you might have to spend more time looking. Also, I think “passion” can exist quite separately from being truly known, loved, and desired by someone. I’d hold out for all three, and in both directions.

  2. That quote is wonderful. As sheriji mentioned, like sheer poetry more than prose.

    And I think it’s difficult for anyone to offer up a true portrait of themselves in small glimpses – whether it be online or in life. Continue to be all of yourself all of the time without wondering who might revel in it. Doubtless this joy will attract others (like moths to a flame).

  3. “it’s always puzzled me that the ones i have the most chemistry with never bother to read anything i write, ”

    Yes, exactly this. And then, last year, for a short time I did have a love that saw me, whole. It changed everything.

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