Barthes wrote: Life never does more than imitate the book, and the book itself is only a tissue of signs, an imitation that is lost, infinitely deferred.
I want to write a story for you. I want to follow your lead
Laws of Love
Think that they are the sole filament of virtue plucked from the cloth of this plastic underground. Remark upon how her smallest sounds rebound with no lace, naked and real in their absence of decorum; her movements wring mortar from the walls and dip like falling feathers into time, growing and fading and being remembered by air and her tenacity.
how do i love youth?
January 2012 [First Words]