For the first time in ages, I stepped back into home before daylight even reached the doorstep.
Browsing: Creative
Motionless, erect like a prop. I had no attempts of consolation for Giuseppe, nothing I had to give him at all, really, so I drifted, stupefied, out of the bar. He didn’t try to stop me.
with razor sharp
biting english words
and wonder if
my mother once a girl is me, just a little bit.
We need to be able to discuss new technologies critically. To be able to question whether we really them in society, whether we are ready to accept the consequences of their usage, and to decide how they should be regulated.
When your metal begins to rust unconsolably, and you too lay down and become little sand-fragments of steel and rust, this too will be lost with you forever.
I waved at my old friend. He held out his arms. I felt his hot, soothing breath, the skin of his arms grazing my bare back. A firework blew in the pitch black behind my closing eyelids. We talked for ages; he filled me in on what I’d missed.
We are the lucky ones. Why, then, do we feel so unlucky? There are more homeless on the streets every day, turtles prised from their shells.
Taking photos—an instinctual human gesture. It’s impossible to imagine their absence, a time
when time could not be recorded and printed and revisited (or uploaded, to our lifelong
construction of a mausoleum in the cloud).
wind clatters on old gums of the sandbank
& red dust crescendos on streambeds.
this is yanggu’s orchestra
“Are you a glass-half-full or half-empty kind of girl?”
