writing in the dark
i write and the world does not close in on me. it does not grow smaller. it moves in the direction of what is open, future and possible
i imagine and the act of imagination revives me. i am not fossilized or paralyzed in the face of the predators. i invent characters. sometimes i feel as if i am digging people out of the ice in which reality has encased them. but perhaps more than anything , the person i am digging out at the moment is myself.
i also write about what cannot be restored. about what has no comfort.then too in a way i still cannot explain, the circumstances of my life do not close in on me and leave me paralyzed. many times a day as i sit at my writing desk , i touch sorrow and loss like someone touching electricity with bare hands, yet it does not kill me
david grossman, writing in the dark