[...] la sensación de que las cosas no marchan bien y de que, de hecho, todo funciona tan mal que lo único que podemos hacer es decir: 'Jódete', una y otra vez, sin parar, gritándolo a pleno pulmón, h...
CLARE: The library is cool and smells like carpet cleaner, although all I can see is marble.
Clare snores, quiet animal snores that feel like bulldozers running through my head. I want my own bed, in my own apartment. Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is w...
Absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird
Do you ever miss him?Every day. Every minute.Every minute, she says. Yes, it's that way, isn't it?
Now it becomes clear that he's one of those people who is fastidious about his personal appearance but secretly skivenly about everything else
And we laugh, and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost, or dead, or far away: right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.
When I am out there, in time, I am inverted, change into a desperate version of myself.
When we met I was wrecked, blasted, and damned, and I am slowly pulling myself together because I can see that you are a human being and I would like to be one, too.
I'm living under water. Everything seems slow and far away. I know there's a world up there, a sunlit quick world where time runs like dry sand through an hourglass, but down here, where I am, air and...
I'm sorry. I didn't know you were coming or I'd have cleaned up a little more. My life, I mean, not just the apartment.
In the past, we can only do what we did, and we can only be there if we were there.
It wasn't quite raining, but it wasn't exactly not raining either. She heard the driver squelching along the path behind her.
… dead people need us to remember them, even if it eats us, even if all we can do is say until it is as meaningless as air.
The compelling thing about making art - or making anything, I suppose - is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a thing, a substance in a world of substances.
The hell with virtue. I've figured out the mechanics of her dress.
The space that I can call mine.. is so small that my ideas have become small. I am like a caterpillar in a cocoon of paper; all around me are sketches for sculptures, small drawings that seem like mot...
This spirit, this feeling that things aren't right and, in fact, things are so wrong than the only thing we can do is say Fuck It, over and over again, really loud until someone stops us.
Víz alatt élek. Minden lassú és távoli. Tudom, hogy odafenn van egy világ, egy napsütötte, gyors világ, ahol az idő úgy pereg, ahogyan homokórában a száraz homok, de itt lenn, ahol én vagyok, levegő é...
We come to a house and walk down the small walkway to its backyard. In the yard there are two screens and a slide projector. People are seated in lawn chairs, watching slides of trees.
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