I need anything, anything that will stop me from living in the kind of death the bourgeois eat, the death called comfort.
ยท
I need anything, anything that will stop me from living in the kind of death the bourgeois eat, the death called comfort.
“A model. Enclosed in his mysterious appearance. He has brought home to him all of him that was outside. He is there, behind that forehead, those cheeks.”
Robert Bresson