«Unless I write something, anything, good, indifferent or trashy, every day, I feel ill.» W. H. AUDEN & «Thanking the public, I must decline/ A peep through my window, if folk prefer/ But, please, you, no foot over threshold of mine» House, Robert Browning, 1874
For no reason at all I hated this day as if it was a person - it's wind, it's insecurity, it's flabbiness, it's hints of an insane universe.
posted by para lá de bagdade @ 12:12
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