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40 Austin 2 Wittgenstein: ‘A picture held us captive. And we could not get outside it, for it lay in our language and language seemed to repeat it to us inexorably.’ ‘Moth’ she said, and he turned his head to her, smiling. Velvet along the fractured threads let us name what had broken from the web. Still hungry, she repeated ‘Moth’ more insistently. They were at the window and at the window tapping till he turned out the light. No child any longer asked for a story since ‘Moth’ was every word under her flying finger.
page 47
Austin 41 3 Charles Pelleton: ‘I passed between two rows of perches on which parakeets from various countries were roosting... The parakeets stood out like his separate thoughts, each one materialized and attached to a pole.’ That between the perches there were spaces not occupied by his thoughts, apertures in the procession of parakeets on poles, places where the mind lapsed. That this freed the colours. The green plumage he called blue with perfect confidence, lazing under the apse and looking out on a nothingness cooking like soup. What if he let go of memory’s mooring poles: prelapsarian Lapland lapis lazuli lisped Lapsang Suchong At her lap lipsynch-ing la-la-la.

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40

Austin

2

Wittgenstein: ‘A picture held us captive. And we could not get outside it, for it lay in our language and language seemed to repeat it to us inexorably.’

‘Moth’ she said, and he turned his head to her, smiling.

Velvet along the fractured threads let us name what had broken from the web.

Still hungry, she repeated ‘Moth’ more insistently.

They were at the window and at the window tapping till he turned out the light.

No child any longer asked for a story since ‘Moth’ was every word under her flying finger.

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