I finished A. Camus' "The Fall". Really, human fall. But, interesting enough, it did not speak to me.
"You speaking to me?" it was. I liked Camus, some 20 years ago. Now, here, poor fellow seems to go into the rubbish bin of history. Simply, outdated.
And it would seem his writing is so eternal.
Peculiar feeling of this ... like saying 'goodbye' to dear friend after a longer illness. I suppose it is accelerated by this being in Asia, which is not the place where reflexion of any kind would stick longer, but,then, the feeling of lonelisness should speak volumes.
But it does not, probably lack of reflexion is killing it, haha.
Should one be sorry for such event? I do not know. Where do we go if such books go to history of human mind, to be forgotten, not to ache any more?
I wish luck, big luck, to all of us.