Posted on Wednesday, 11 May 2011
the other one never waits. sometimes i want to play the part of the one who doesn’t wait; i try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but i always lose at this game. whatever i do, i find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. the lover’s fatal identity is precisely this: i am the one who waits.
barthes, a lover’s discourse (via ilikewhatyousee)
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