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“(Here, the author almost wishes to demur; here, at this moment close to climax, the union of at least one and perhaps two intensely private men, who would later give so much of themselves to so many. Here, it is tempting to turn away because for them, this moment was sacred, a marriage of sorts, a contract, a vow, but also a secret, tightly kept between the two of them, against the world. And yet this moment, when they vibrated together, their
very different bodies singing the very same song—they were not merely
a pair of keys, struck, in an empty room. There would be not only the
fingers—theirs, groping for each other—to press the keys but also the ears
to hear it, ours, though we could not possibly know what we had heard.
There would be oscillations, because of what happened in that room. There
would be repercussions.)”
―
very different bodies singing the very same song—they were not merely
a pair of keys, struck, in an empty room. There would be not only the
fingers—theirs, groping for each other—to press the keys but also the ears
to hear it, ours, though we could not possibly know what we had heard.
There would be oscillations, because of what happened in that room. There
would be repercussions.)”
―
“It was always like that for him, the dueling impulses. Sometimes he wanted a wank in the middle of a church and sometimes he wanted to be looked at like a saint in the middle of a hovel.”
― The Chaos Agents
― The Chaos Agents
“(Here, the author almost wishes to demur; here, at this moment close to climax, the union of at least one and perhaps two intensely private men, who would later give so much of themselves to so many. Here, it is tempting to turn away because for them, this moment was sacred, a marriage of sorts, a contract, a vow, but also a secret, tightly kept between the two of them, against the world. And yet this moment, when they vibrated together, their very different bodies singing the very same song—they were not merely
a pair of keys, struck, in an empty room. There would be not only the fingers—theirs, groping for each other—to press the keys but also the ears to hear it, ours, though we could not possibly know what we had heard. There would be oscillations, because of what happened in that room. There would be repercussions.)”
―
a pair of keys, struck, in an empty room. There would be not only the fingers—theirs, groping for each other—to press the keys but also the ears to hear it, ours, though we could not possibly know what we had heard. There would be oscillations, because of what happened in that room. There would be repercussions.)”
―
“Baron didn’t have other friends, not exactly. Admirers, maybe. Enemies, definitely. But friends? No. Well, he’d told himself, plenty of times, famous artists didn’t need friends. When had Van Gogh ever had a friend?”
―
―
“(Here, the author almost wishes to demur; here, at this moment close to climax, the union of at least one and perhaps two intensely private men, who would later give so much of themselves to so many. Here, it is tempting to turn away because for them, this moment was sacred, a marriage of sorts, a contract, a vow, but also a secret, tightly kept between the two of them, against the world. And yet this moment, when they vibrated together, their very different bodies singing the very same song—they were not merely a pair of keys, struck, in an empty room. There would be not only the fingers—theirs, groping for each other—to press the keys but also the ears to hear it, ours, though we could not possibly know what we had heard. There would be oscillations, because of what happened in that room. There would be repercussions.)”
―
―
