'And no, not writing either, I don't think that this is work. I thought so far a long time, I don’t think so anymore. I think it is non-work. It is getting to non-work. The text, the equilibrium of the text, is in itself a space you have to rediscover. Here I can no longer speak of economy, of form, no but of a relationship of forces. I can't say more than this. You must manage to control what suddenly turns up. To struggle against a force that sweeps through and that you must pin down or else have it go beyond you and get lost. Or else have it destroy its disordered and irreplaceable coherence. No, to work is to create this empty space in order to allow the unforeseen, the obvious, to come. To let go, then pick up again, to retrace your steps, to be as remove oneself. And then sometimes, yes, to write. Everyone does, looks for these moments when one retreats from oneself, this state of being anonymous to oneself which one hides. You don’t know nothing about what you're doing.
   More than anything else, writing attests to this unawareness of what is liable to happen when you are there, sitting at the so-called work table, of what is caused by this material fact of sitting in front of a table with whatever you need to compose letters on the still untouched page.'

Marguerite Duras, Green Eyes, translated by Carol Barko, publisher: Columbia University Press

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