Maturity, one discovers, has everything to do with the acceptance of ‘not knowing.
Do you really think the munificence of the multiverse comes translatable for your little mind? Have you ever thought to consider all that you miss whenever you're shown what is suited to your seeing?
By now you've probably noticed that except when safely contained by quotes, Zampanò always steers clear of such questionable four-letter language. This instance in particular proves that beneath all t...
You wouldn't believe how much harder it's getting for me to just leave my studio. It's really sad. In fact these days the only thing that gets me outside is when I say: Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you. Fuc...
Les jeux sont faits. Nous sommes fucked.
Do we miss not only the past but every future the lost past describes? Is that just the nature of missing? All the lost might-have-beens? The certainty that those uncertain futures are gone?
Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you'll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You'll sta...
No gunfire, famine, or flies. Just lots of toothpaste, gardening and people stuff.
And there you have it, another body on the floor surrounded by things that don't mean much to anyone except to the one who can't take any of them along.
Two kisses in one kiss was all it took, a comfort, a warmth, perhaps temporary, perhaps false, but reassuring nonetheless, and mine, and theirs, ours, all three of us giggling, insane giggles and laug...
Love's love in her blackest season.
Death, it turns out, is the mother of all conflicts.
Come morning I found the day as I have found every other day--without relief or explanation.
It is understood that the world does not want to be understood. The world would not be this world if it did.
He loved more than anything to fly. His sole conflict was with gravity.
Ever see yourself doing something in the past and no matter how many times you remember it you still want to scream stop, somehow redirect the action, reorder the present?
Even the brightest magnesium flare can do little against such dark except blind the eyes of the one holding it. Thus one craves what by seeing one has in fact not seen.
Stars to live by. Stars to steer by. Stars to die by.
I'm all soils west when the Earth lets go. I'm a thousand Julys.
Your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You'll care only about the darkness and you'll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain t...