Have you ever considered, beloved Other, how invisible we all are to each other? Have you ever thought about how little we know each other? We look at each other without seeing. We listen to each other and hear only a voice inside ourself. . .
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, ch. 329
It's funny how a write like Pessoa, who can can come off as so isolated (and appearing to desire even more isolation) and unfeeling (and almost celebrating that unfeeling) can also write a passage which also a tremendous lament for that isolation and lack of feeling. I'm only 230 pages into the 1000 page biography of Pessoa by Zenith, so maybe I'll have a better answer for this question soon. Is it simply because these are supposed to be the words of Bernardo Soares, one of Pessoa's better-known heteronyms, and allegedly not those of Pessoa himself, that allows for this disconnection? Or, is it simply that all of us are this emotionally disjointed?
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