Currently reading Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, which is to put it simply, the story of 2 comic writers in World War II.
A line in the book struck a chord in me cos I remember blogging about something similar (but I must admit I'm too lazy to plough through my archives to find it). I once wrote that I felt like an audience participating in a magician's disappearing act, suspended in time, just waiting waiting waiting to emerge. And then I read this:
"To me, Clark Kent in a phone booth and Houdini in a packing crate, they were one and the same thing... You weren't the same person when you came out as when you went in."
Metamorphosis. I'm not going to be the same person when I come out as when I went in. So maybe all this waiting has a purpose after all.
A line in the book struck a chord in me cos I remember blogging about something similar (but I must admit I'm too lazy to plough through my archives to find it). I once wrote that I felt like an audience participating in a magician's disappearing act, suspended in time, just waiting waiting waiting to emerge. And then I read this:
"To me, Clark Kent in a phone booth and Houdini in a packing crate, they were one and the same thing... You weren't the same person when you came out as when you went in."
Metamorphosis. I'm not going to be the same person when I come out as when I went in. So maybe all this waiting has a purpose after all.
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