the pursuit of truth
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the path to love is strewn with cats’ eyes in the darkness and with the silence that spreads all around like a net of joy the path to love is nocturnal ON THE MOUNTAINS OF MYOUPOLIS, Nikos Engonopoulos I saw a toad being eaten by bugs and then A black and blue butterfly perfectly still, stuck in a landed position, half its wing torn off, Dead upon further inspection E posts pictures of a field…
The heat makes me feel listless, it feels sinful to be still when the sun is out Heavy heat is a phantom of missing In Volos, we would wake up and walk outside.
I am someone who sees the smallest letters of the earth.
You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down.
How do you paint darkness?
The growing proletarianization of modern man and the increasing formation of masses are two aspects of the same process.
I imagined her in the dusk of a Paris garden, untouched in her white dress, an object thirsting if not for interpretation then for fulfillment at least of an admiring human gaze, like a painting hanging on a wall, waiting.
or 3 or 4
For though it [sexuality] is always there in its ordinary form, like other ‘basic needs’, it assumes a totally different, extraordinary form and intensity in certain periods —those times when we fall in love.
— What did defeat mean to you?
