Short post.
I am at Dave's, rending my less wiling to write. I've been reading today the thoughts of Hoderlin and Thoreough, and Celan. Especially Celane. "
"Autumn eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends."
"It is time the stone made an effort to flowe,/time unrest had a beating heart"
It's a sentiment that reminds us that decay can be endured, and even embraced of as part of a cycle and a call to
arms to let destiny and the zeitgeist of the time flow naturally.
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