Deep Bone Insomnia: Novel →
deepboneinsomnia: I. No one’s serious at seventeen. —On beautiful nights when beer and lemonade And loud, blinding cafés are the last thing you need —You stroll beneath green lindens on the promenade. Lindens smell fine on fine June nights! Sometimes the air is so sweet that you close your eyes; The wind brings…
stevenmiller: At last, O happiness, O reason, I brushed from the sky the azure that is darkness, and I lived—gold spark of pure light. Out of joy I took on an expression as clownish and blank as possible: It is recovered! What? Eternity. It is the sea mixed with the sun. - Arthur Rimbaud, from A Season in Hell
partyasaurust asked: am 318 pagini momentan :)) pana la ce pagina te-ai uitat?