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Quote by Gaston Bachelard The Poetics of Space

“Topoanalysis, then, would be the systematic psychological study of the sites of our intimate lives. In the theater of the past that is constituted by memory, th stage setting maintains the characters in their dominant roles. At times we think we know ourselves in time, when all we know is a sequence of fixations in the spaces of the being's stability - a being who does not want to melt away, and who, even in the past, when he sets out in search of things past, wants time to "suspend" its flight. In its countless alveoli space contains compressed time. That is what space is for.”

Quote by Gaston Bachelard The Poetics of Space

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Gaston Bachelard The Poetics of Space

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“We collected our things from our quarters---the ones that had been assigned to us and the ones we had adopted--- and I gathered up all my notes that would slowly metamorphose into The Extinction of Irena Rey. Maybe Grey Eminence was right that writing has to be an engine of extinction. But the first to inhabit a traumatized landscape are often fungi, lichen, slime molds, and species of plants known as "ruderal," a word that derives from the Latin word for "rubble." Maybe the extinction of Irena Rey made the space for a ruderal art, like a book about what happened to her translators.”

“...we should be remembered for the things we do. The things we do are the most important things of all. They are more important than what we say or what we look like. The things we do outlast our mortality. The things we do are like monuments that people build to honour heroes after they've died. They're like the pyramids that the Egyptians built to honour the Pharaohs. Only instead of being made out of stone, they're made out of the memories people have of you. That's why your deeds are like your monuments. Built with memories instead of with stone.”

“Cleaning out my closets and came across a dusty old book, buried and forgotten in there. I sat down and opened it up. It’s about a little girl in Finland with blonde ringlets who got mad at her grandmother and decided to walk to America. Buck naked except for the bright yellow Nokia rain boots. That’s how the journey started. Forward 53 years and I’m still that girl with a lifetime of adventure and walkabouts in between. I did end up in America, a country I embrace as my own, but the path here came with many detours and dead ends,but I’m here. Finally.”

“Gently, Auntie Zee said, “I am a traveler cat.” “A what?” Jack asked. Calisa was grateful to him for voicing the question. She had so many battering through her skull that it felt like she couldn’t speak. “It is a type of witch. Very rare. I was born with the ability to open and close portals.” A witch. “And the cat part of it?” Now she was smiling more broadly. “It’s how a portal witch recovers her powers. I have to transform into a smaller body, specifically a cat. It allows the magic to replenish— there’s less energy required to keep a smaller body alive. As for why a cat… I suppose the universe has a sense of humor. Cats are known for always being on the wrong side of every door.”