Russell Hoban, through Fremder, leads me back to Lee Smolin, and further to Lawrence Durrell:

Being is not a steady state but an occulting one:  we are all of us a succession of stillnesses blurring into motion on the wheel of action… The flickering of a film interrupts the intolerable contiuity of apparent world; subliminally it gives us those in-between spaces of black that we crave.  [my ellipses]

Later, Hoban returns to the black in Amaryllis Night and Day:

…those of us who think about the empty spaces tend to paint pictures, write books or compose music.  There are many talented people who never will become painters, writers, or composers; the talent is in them but not the empty spaces where art happens.  [my ellipses]

and Fremder again:

More and more I find that life is a series of disappearances followed usually but not always by reappearances; you disappear from your morning self and reappear as your afternoon self; you disappear from feeling good and reappear feeling bad.  And people, even face to face and clasped in each other’s arms, disappear from each other.


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