Tuesday, January 27

Bedtime

Crinolines

Soon I hope to grow out of this desire to manifest myself visually. (And those who don't love, aspire to be admired, and those who aren't admired want to be feared).

I'm sick of winter. I drink five different kinds of tea every day and anticipate Keats' letters published in small format on Flamme forlag.

2 comments:

  1. what would we be anymore if not manifests of ourselves?

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  2. That is true, but I sometimes wish I were invisible and could just pass through life without leaving traces.

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