It is on a day like this one,
a little later a little earlier
that you discover without surprise
that something is wrong
that you don’t know how to live
and you will never know
“Quips and players, seeming to vend astringency off-hours, celebrate diced excesses and sardonics, mixing pleasures, as if proximity were staring at the margin of the plea”
Frank O’Hara | Second Avenue
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