Forever

Thomas Moore Forever (2021)
Once again I'm pretty much lost for words, Moore's prose being of such scalpel precision as to render whatever I might have to say about this unusually short novel equivalent to it's really smart innit. Our man travels to Paris, hooks up with strangers, and coasts through his own fragile existence with the detachment of one whose time is running out, and who acknowledges that none of it truly amounts to anything.

Capitalism is everywhere - especially death. But after death it's gone, like everything else - I presume it will mean nothing. Things will lose their meaning. Things won't matter to me. I won't be me. All this will be just - I should just start leaving blank spaces on the page. I don't cruise again. I don't look at any more websites. Sex is gone now. It feels like a big thing to put to rest. I don't know if it is or not. It's hard to tell if things matter or if they just feel like they do.

Moore somehow manages to describe that which probably cannot be described - emotionally speaking, by mapping the empty spaces around it, and somehow achieving it with as few words as possible; and it's beautiful to behold, even though it really shouldn't be.

Incredible.