pynchon-twilight

It was that phase of twilight, full of anxiety, when mercy in this world and the others is apt to be least available. Energies were on the loose, masses could materialize.

Thought:

“Be sped, my Canzon, through the bitter air!
To him who speaketh words as fair as these,
Say that I also know the ‘Yearly Slain.’”

Ezra Pound | “Canzon: The Yearly Slain”

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