jeudi 14 février 2013

Je m’appelle Boris...


I came to understand that Boris responded far more directly to the indirect; that is to say, his real emotions surfaced only when mediated by the unreal. Time and again, I had sat dry-eyed beside him while ne snuffled and wept over actors on a big, flat screen. I had never, ever seen him cry in the so-called real world, not for Stephan [frère de Boris], not for his mother, nor for me or for Daisy or for dead friends or for any human being who wasn’t made of celluloid.

(Extrait de The summer without men de Siri Hustvedt)

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