Lawrence Durrell (‘Larry’ for his family and his friends at the Intelligence Service) wrote the four novels of his Alexandria Quartet intending each to represent one of the dimensions, Justine, Balthazar and Mountolive for the spatial ones and Clea for time. Although I read the whole thing when I was a student, I am still not sure whether this grandiose and far-fetched metaphor works at all (think deconstruction and postmodern ‘philosophers’ here). In any case, the cool thing about the way the Quartet is written is that the story is revealed piece by piece, with each book more or less representing a particular point of view, a specific perspective (or vantage point). This actually works and it is not very far from how written stuff we leave behind relates to our stories or — if you like — our selves.
I was yesterday thinking that in order to partially reconstruct myself, my story, my inner life, multiple written sources would be needed: this blog, another blog, my diary, my correspondence. However, what is never written would still be missing. Not to mention all sorts of spurious stuff that keeps popping up in written stuff (ok, I am still under the influence of Auster’s Invisible here, but not without reason).