Kafka Fragments

György Kurtág, Op. 24

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  • The good march in step. Unaware of them, the others dance around them in dances of time.
  • Like a pathway in autumn: hardly has it been swept clean, it is covered again with dry leaves.
  • There are countless hiding places, but only one salvation; but then again, there are as many paths to salvation as there are hiding places.
  • Restless
  • Wrap your overcoat, oh lofty dream, around the child.
  • Nevermore, nevermore will you return to the cities, nevermore will the great bell resound above you.
  • “But he just won’t stop asking me” That “ah”, detached from the sentence, flew away like a ball across the meadow.
  • Someone tugged at my clothes but I shrugged them off.
  • The seamstresses in the downpourings.
  • The onlookers freeze as the train goes past.
  • Slept, woke, slept, woke. Miserable life.
  • My ear felt fresh to the touch, rough, cool, juicy, like a leaf.
  • Once I broke my leg: it was the most wonderful experience of my life.
  • For a moment I felt enarmoured.
  • On the stock of Balzac’s walking-stick: I surmount all obstacles. On mine: All obstacles surmount me. They have that “all” in common.
  • From a certain point on, there is no going back.
  • I will not let myself be made tired. I will dive into my story even if that should lacerate my face.
  • The flower hung dreamily on it’s tall stem. Dusk enveloped it.
  • Nothing of the kind, Nothing of the kind.
  • The true path goes by way of a rope that is suspended not high up, but rather just above the ground. Its purpose seems to be more to make on stumble than walked upon.
  • There is no “to have” only a “to be” longing for the last breath, for suffocation.
  • Coitus as punishment for the happiness of being together.
  • My prison cell – my fortress.
  • I am dirty, Milena, endlessly dirty, that is why I make such a fuss about cleanliness. None sing as purely as those in deepest hell; it is their singing we take for the singing of angels.
  • Slept, woke, slept, woke. Miserable life.
  • The closed circle is pure.
  • There is a destination, but no path to it; what we call a path is hesitation.
  • As tightly as the hand holds the stone. It holds so tight only to cast it off as far as it can. Yet even that distance the path with reach.
  • In the struggle between yourself and the world, side with the world.
  • There are countless hiding-places, but only one salvation; but then again, there are as many paths to salvation as there are hiding places.

Performance

March 1, 2013 · by lightmapstudio

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