In front, the darkened sky; Below, the quiet street. Close my eyes, prepare to fly; This body now, later, meat.
From The Unconsoled, by Kazuo Ishiguro: [E]very now and then, he looks back over this life he's led and wonders if he didn't perhaps let certain things slip by. He wonders how things might have been if he'd been, well, a little less timid. A little less timid and a little more passionate.
I was hit by nostalgia today. And as I thought back about my past, I realised how different my life would be today if I'd made a decision or two just a tad differently from what I'd actually made. I'm not saying that life would've been better. All I know for certain is that it'd... Continue Reading →
Words excite me. Really, they do. The prospect of writing something good tantalises me like the prospect of having good sex. My pupils enlarge; my breathing gets shallower; my hands get all balmy. But as much as I love to write, I haven't been writing lately. Probably because I've been finding that there's hardly anything... Continue Reading →
I remember when I was younger watching a Bjork music video, in which I vaguely recall images of, among other things, volcanoes, large barren landscapes, as well as lots of snow and ice. I remember thinking how beautiful it all was, and how surreal. And I remember thinking, I wish I was there. It was... Continue Reading →