The ideas of the poets are the forgotten adventures of God -Elias Canetti
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Story One, Chapter Six
I don't know what I am. I was human. I remember the past. I remember joy. Infrequently. The recollections are brief, and wake a thirst I didn't know was there. They pass, and I am the worse for their coming. I am left cold, and thirsting. A thirst that cannot be quenched.
1 comment:
this is great!
xenia
Post a Comment