What they disallowed in me, remains. What they bled from me, so stark and violent, I scooped it into my hands and drank it all back. It rolls down the corners of my soft cheeks, baptismal.
What they disallowed in me, remains. What they bled from me, so stark and violent, I scooped it into my hands and drank it all back. It rolls down the corners of my soft cheeks, baptismal.
“Everybody has that feeling when they look at a work of art and it’s right, that sudden familiarity, a sort of… recognition, as though they were creating it themselves, as though it were being created through them while they look at it or listen to it…”
William Gaddis | The Recognitions