Have you really not forgotten what it was like there? how everything there fluctuates, alters, escapes… you grope your way along, forever searching, straining… towards what? what is it? it’s like nothing else… no one talks about it… it evades you, grasp it as long as it eventually finds some fertile ground where it can develop, where it can perhaps manage to live… My goodness, just thinking about it…
Childhood, Nathalie Sarraute.