"Meanwhile, my house is empty once more, probably for good. I accepted everyone’s leaving me, and at the same time I wanted to punish myself. I failed yet again because I did not know, or had forgotten, who I am."
P. Handke, My Year in the No-Man's-Bay: A Novel
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I have one question to ask? How does Peter Handke know me so well? And yet he is not aware that I even exist. How come this quote fits perfectly with the mood of my yesterday's entry-rambling on loneliness? Some forces are at work beyond my knowledge and understanding. Let it be.
I am narcissistically putting my own photo here, because the narcs are in vogue including all shapes of narcissism.
And now I'm ruining the perfectly perfect quote. I am sorry.
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