basile-night

September 23, 2024

The night is false, sometimes the night is.

Sometimes I let myself be part of it, you see, I am a coward.

We let ourselves into the garden; how grandeur, how want. The lost soft supple abstract.

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Thought:

“I look down into all that wasp-nest or bee-hive… and witness their wax-laying and honey-making, and poison-brewing, and choking by sulphur.”

Thomas Carlyle | Sartor Resartus

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