“How do our lives ravel out into the no-wind, no-sound, the weary gestures wearily recapitulant: echoes of old compulsions with no-hand on no-strings: in sunset we fall into furious attitudes, dead gestures of dolls.” - from Darl on page 207
🤯🤯🤯
— Nov 08, 2025 12:48PM
Add a comment
