Illness and Kafka

Travelling to Kafka's hometown in 2006.


Kafka understood that travel, sex, and books are paths that lead nowhere except to the loss of the self, and yet they must be followed and the self must be lost, in order to find it again, or to find something, whatever it may be - a book, an expression, a misplaced object - in order to find anything at all, a method, perhaps, and, with a bit of luck, the new, which has been there all along.

Roberto Bolano, from "Literature + Illness = Illness".

Wittgenstein's Cow

For some reason, the following quote from Ludwig Wittgenstein kept popping into my head today, at odd times (in my head it was paraphrased - my memory isn't quite this good):

“A new born child has no teeth.”—“A goose has no teeth.”—“A rose has no teeth.”—This last at any rate—one would like to say—is obviously true! It is even surer than that a goose has none.—And yet it is none so clear. For where should a rose’s teeth have been? The goose has none in its jaw. And neither, of course, has it any in its wings; but no one means that when he says it has no teeth.—Why, suppose one were to say: the cow chews its food and then dungs the rose with it, so the rose has teeth in the mouth of a beast. This would not be absurd, because one has no notion in advance where to look for teeth in a rose. ((connexion with ‘pain in someone else’s body’.))

I find this sort of paradigm-shifting thought utterly refreshing. Thank you, unknown brain processes, for bringing this to my attention today.