pynchon-twilight

December 12, 2024

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.

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Thought:

“They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.”

Samuel Beckett | Waiting for Godot

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