After reading just a couple of pages in Blanchot’s L’écriture du désastre, fragments on inattentiveness and one on forgiveness. [On page 89: "Pardonne-moi de te pardonner."] These offer me an escape of sorts. From what, if not from myself.
Commentary on myself, i.e. on my “thesis”:
Claiming that when Kant speaks of hypotyposes (yes, in plural: schematic and symbolical type of hypotyposis) he is not speaking of metaphor, I don’t think I was clear enough.
“Images in poetry”, this is approximately what Celan says, “are nothing visual.” Keineswegs Visuelles. Nothing visual, nothing visible. [Later, I add the exact phrase: "Bildhaftes, das ist keineswegs etwas Visuelles". I cite this on p. 206 of my Counter-figures.]
The dog is nothing visible. The schema of “dog” is even less visible, if possible, than the schema of triangle.
“The visible”, writes Merleau-Ponty, “is pregnant with the invisible”. This is precisely a comment on Heidegger’s argument against the concept of metaphor in Der Satz vom Grund.
This love of the “abstract” — it is a love for that which shall disappear. Mortality, terrestriality, temporality, and never the supra-lunar... Never? Perhaps never. Always perhaps, never for ever, never, perhaps.
Love for the ephemeral.
For words too, like flowers.
Watch their éclosion in the morning light.