The colours in the evening are a carefully selected palette, moving from rich pinks to fiery oranges, then a gradient of deep blue pulls itself up from behind the buildings, and up and over us it goes. It’s an old man slowly pulling more duvet over to his side of the bed, across his rounded, curled shoulders, with his firm forearm and frail wrist. It is an agonising slowness with all the beauty of something so delicate.
Let's talk about loving people. I don't mean loving someone, which is a more determined affair, but loving en masse. Loving people feels like cupping clear spring-water in your hands – knowing it's going to leave, but also knowing it still available, and knowing the source isn’t far from grasp. It’s their mind you’re after.… Continue reading Location: Home (Intellectual Attraction)
It is only through becoming an encyclopedia, a reference book, a resource myself that any doubts are removed. In those moments I know there is a use for these books and for the time I have devoted to them - more use than the act of reading provides alone.