man tik ļoti nevajadzēja būt vienai šeit šonakt. tik liels tukšums, tas spiežas man virsū no visām pusēm caur ierasto skaņu iztrūkumu, caur nosalušām pēdām, pie kurām viņa neieritinās, caur jau sadalītajām tabletēm un tikko iesāktā konserva uz virtuves darba virsmas, pat tad, kad es izslēdzu gaismu un to visu vairs neredzu. i just really needed someone to hold me throughout the night, bet neviena jau man šeit rīgā šobrīd nav.

vienīgais labums no tā, ka neviena nav, ir tas, ka es varu raudāt brīžiem balsī kā mazs bērns, ne no viena nekaunoties.

You believe you know what goes on in your mind, which often consists of one conscious thought leading in an orderly way to another. But that is not the only way the mind works, nor indeed is that the typical way. Most impressions and thoughts arise in your conscious experience without your knowing how they got there. (..) The notion that we have limited access to the workings of our minds is difficult to accept because, naturally, it is alien to our experience, but it is true: you know far less about yourself than you feel you do.

//Daniel Kahneman, 2011, Thinking, Fast and Slow

Clare considered: was it a matter of tracing lines of influence to objects rather than personalities? Difficult, when influence was a matter of motivation, which was not possible with inanimate objects. So many times their tasks would have been easier if they could change someone’s mind. But that was like bringing a sledgehammer down on delicate glasswork. So you changed the thing that would change someone’s mind. How small a change could generate the greatest outcome? That was her challenge: could removing a bottle of ink from a room change the world? She believed it could. If it was the right bottle of ink, the right room. Then perhaps a letter wouldn’t be written, an order of execution wouldn’t be signed.
(..)
“I never did this for you. I never did this for history. There’s no great sweep to any of this. (..) I just wanted to help people. To try to make the world a little better. I like to think that if I weren’t doing this I’d be working in a soup kitchen somewhere. In fact maybe I’d have done more good if I’d worked in a soup kitchen.”

“You can’t do any good alone, Clare.”

“I think you’re the one who can’t do any good alone,” she said. She looked at him. “I have saved four hundred and thirty-two people who would have died because they did not have clean water. Because of me, forty-three people walked a different way home and didn’t get mugged or pressed into the army. Thirty-eight kitchen fires didn’t reach the cooking oil. Thirty-one fishermen did not drown when they fell overboard. I have helped two dozen people fall in love.”

His chuckle was bitter. “You were never very ambitious.”

“Ambitious enough,” she said.


//Carrie Vaughn, Game of Chance

domāju, ka tad, ja es izlemtu ķerties pie prōzas rakstīšanas, varētu pieņemt pseidonīmu stephanie hawking un uzrakstīt puslīdz gudriem cilvēkiem domātu romānu "a brief history of tim" (tikko iegūglēju, nosakums jau ir izmantots, bet tas jau nekas, tam ir vēl apakšvirsraksts, manam garadarbam tāda nebūtu).

īstenībā, man liekas, "a brief history of tim" ir jābūt erōtiskam romānam inteliģentiem lasītājiem. iespējams, no tima apeņu perspektīvas.