Truman Capote said it:

“Since each story presents its own technical problems, obviously one can’t generalize about them on a two-times-two-equals-four basis. Finding the right form for your story is simply to realize the most natural way of telling the story. The test of whether or not a writer has defined the natural shape of his story is just this: After reading it, can you imagine it differently, or does it silence your imagination and seem to you absolute and final? As an orange is final.”

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And I said this:

As an orange or an octopus

She hides her intelligence well, so that it becomes dangerous and elegant as any well hidden thing does. I tell her whatever can’t kill us is imagined. She doesn’t need to respond. I say things to her I’ve been thinking. I don’t always know what she’s thinking. I know a lot of people and today I bought myself eyeglasses. I thought of just her seeing me in them. I think her intelligence is an orange. I think mine is an octopus: ink is afraid. Some immaculate acts of cowardice keep us living, and they very slowly and beautifully disappear. When an orange falls from a tree is it brave or weak? She’d say it doesn’t need to be one way or the other, that I don’t need to think about that sort of thing. I might say brave and I’d have to imagine the orange wasn’t anything like me. I’m watching a movie about Truman Capote. He’s not a frightening man, but he makes everyone laugh and it is frightening. Almost everything ends in you. Almost everything ends in me. I think this is true.


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