Potential Random XIV

An aging house, well yes he understands that—but suddenly down it falls. And he is in a garden. And there are animals. And he is in a garden and there are trees. And there are stones on fire. And, well, he walks up and down on them. But this is the Hebrew and, not a conjunction, merely some un- translatable particle. Cenotaph (there is no body here). (Somehow I can’t imagine digging a separate grave for the heart.) And everything is cast down—plants, animals, garden, stones, fire, Tyre with its river called Litany—along with himself. The living organism, he hears, is a symbol of the psyche. Thinking is inward seeing. So Wittgenstein thought, and also Swedenborg. Die, well yes he knows he has to, but thinks of it as being killed—or killing. As if at a distance—he lives, not in life, but across from it. And it comes to pass. And he tries to distinguish life and its contents. And they wheel around him, the cars, as if he were standing still.