lispector-night

October 15, 2024

·

The dense, dark night was cut down the middle, split into two black blocks of sleep. Where was she? Between the two pieces, looking at them (the one she had already slept and the one she had yet to sleep), isolated in the timeless and the spaceless, in an empty gap. This stretch would be subtracted from her years of life.

Thought:

“When I started writing

I was a sick teenaged

fuck inside who partly

thought I was the new

Marquis de Sade, a body

ready to communicate

with Satan …”

Dennis Cooper

Christian Molenaar

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  • Yeah, There Was Always Going to Be a June 5, 1968
  • Dogs Are All the Time Licking My Hand
  • Should He Remember?
  • Blooming