One of my favourite things to do, of holy proportion to the passionate student painting words onto a blank canvas at the last minute, eyes falling shut like a broken garage door just before the glassy vibration of a mid-winter sunrise, is to sleep little for 2 or 3 nights and sit at a cafe as the clock strikes 9:30 PM with a full cup of coffee glanced in the peripheral to my right and a world shaker book of cosmic sputtering.. philosophies of new and of old.. quivering between my overworked fingers, reading like a raving madman who understands how false it is to understand anything as mundanity.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 7:20 PM UTC
One of my favourite things to do, of holy proportion to the passionate student painting words onto a blank canvas at the last minute, eyes falling shut like a broken garage door just before the glassy vibration of a mid-winter sunrise, is to sleep little for 2 or 3 nights and sit at a cafe as the clock strikes 9:30 PM with a full cup of coffee glanced in the peripheral to my right and a world shaker book of cosmic sputtering.. philosophies of new and of old.. quivering between my overworked fingers, reading like a raving madman who understands how false it is to understand anything as mundanity.
