“I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.” – The Castle, Kafka
Wandering souls shape unfulfilled desires.
Sending black arrows through the gaze of dusty spaces
With the bittersweet tenderness of aborted chances.
Une liste de choses plus ou moins belles, à voir.