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To the regulated, regular man a room, a wilderness and the world are precise, well-defined spaces. To the nomadic, labyrinthine man, condemned to wander on a journey which is inevitably a little longer than his life, the same space will be truly infinite even when he knows and the more so when he knows that it is not. Maurice Blanchot, ‘Literary Infinity: The Aleph’, The Sirens' Song, Brighton: Harvester, 1982.
We journey, we journey - we arrive at the water, we cross the water, we cross the water in journeying - in journeying! - we go by the grassland, we cross the grassland - in forest we journey, once more descend the hill journeying - journeying, journeying we climb the hill, we cross the hill - on the crest we journey, we go down another hill, still walking on!
The second quotation is from a song of the Nambicuara Indians from Western Brazil documented by Claude Levi-Strauss in 'La vie familiale et sociale de Indiens Nambikwara', Journal de la Societe des Americanistes, (37, 1948). I found the reference in a book in my local library (Enrico Guidoni, Primitive Architecture, London: Faber & Faber, 1975) while I was looking for images of temporary or portable homes, on which some of these drawings were based. By coincidence, around the same time I came across Maurice Blanchot's essay on Jorge Luis Borges which explores the relationship between literature and infinity.
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