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Negative 8 - Letter --175 Options
CpVb006
Posted: Friday, September 7, 2007 8:25:44 AM

Rank: Shoal
Groups: Shoal , Unspace Science Committee

Joined: 1/24/2009
Posts: 139
Location: United States
What is is:

Negative 8 is letter --175 from The First Eric Sanderson.

Location:

Spread [Portuguese]

Translation (by DawnTreader):

(Received in: March, 3)
Letter nº 175

Dear Eric

Today was a strange day. It is difficult to me separate the inside from the outside. The things that I think from the thinks that I know. Sometimes is like that. Have dark areas in my mind. Injuries and deep holes whose fund I can’t see, for more that I concentrate.
The holes are everywhere and, when you perceive them, you can’t stop. Some are dark wells with echoes and others have stopped dark water in the depths. Inside them I can see a distant full moon and the cut silhouette of a person, looking back to me. The contour makes me terrorized. It is me below? Or are you? Maybe doesn’t be anybody. The view become the reflex – and… something more, another thing. Something that I knew and maybe I lose, or maybe not. I know that what I write don’t make sense, but sometimes the strangest things are essentials to me. As if the labels had fallen and were replaced in the wrong place. I write what seems important; even when I read again and means nothing, I leave as is, because what I know? Don’t lose your faith in me, Eric.
Where going everything? I wrote so many things that don’t is hear anymore. Things are lost and that is the life, but… But. Last night, I dreamed that there were five red wardrobes. Four was full and I lock them in somewhere. Was this a dream or the lasts wreckages of memory sank? You know what I mean. Inside and outside. Object and reflex. Front and back. Positive and negative. I think I am leaving things more confusing, rather than clarify them. I will stop to write now.

Weigh and hope,
Eric

Revised translation (by CpVb006):

(Received: 3rd March)
Letter --175

Dear Eric,

Today was a strange day. It’s difficult for me to separate the inside from the outside. To separate what I think from what I know. Sometimes that is what it’s like. I have dark areas in my mind. Injuries and holes whose bottom I can’t see, no matter how hard I try. The holes are everywhere and when you think about them them, you can’t stop thinking about them. Some holes are dark wells containing only echoes, while others contain dark water in their depths. Inside them I can see a distant full moon, and the silhouette of a person looking back at me. The shape terrorizes me. Is it me down below? Is it you? Maybe it isn’t anyone. The view becomes a reflection and…something more, something else. Something I knew, and maybe lost, or maybe not. I know this doesn’t make sense, but sometimes the strangest things are essential. It’s as if the labels have fallen off, and were put back in the wrong places. I write what seems important, and even when I read it back, it means nothing, and I leave it as is, because what do I know anyway? Don’t lose faith in me, Eric.

Where is everything going? I wrote so many things that aren’t here anymore. Things are lost, and that’s life, but…but. Last night, I dreamt there were five red wardrobes. Four were full and I locked them up somewhere. Was this a dream of the last wreckages of a sunken memory? You know what I mean. Inside and out. Object and reflection. Front and back. Positive and negative. I think I am making things more confusing, rather than clarifying them. I will stop writing now.

Regret and hope,
Eric

Originally found in:

The Brazilian edition of The Raw Shark Texts. According to the source below, Negative 8 will be only available in Portuguese

Source
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