I walked back and forth across the parade in the blowing snow. Then I went to my room and threw off my jacket. I wanted to look up words. I took off my boots and wrung out my cap over the washbasin. I wanted to look up words. I wanted to look up velleity and quotidian and memorize the fuckers for all time, spell them, learn them, pronounce them syllable by syllable--vocalize, phonate, utter the sounds, say the words for all they're worth.
This is the only way in the world you can escape the things that made you.
24 November 2010
The way through
From Underworld by Don DeLillo: