Everything in its right place. Is it existential drama? Is it inane rubbish? Make of it what you will.
Grunge: Somewhere out there are people with beer, chips, and pickles, and here I am at a rest stop alone with my doom.
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Barbara Kruger (1985)
Vladimir Nabokov, Gods
For aren't you and I gods?
Let all of life be an unfettered howl.
Release life's rapture.
Everything is blooming.
Everything is flying.
Everything is screaming.
Laughter.
Running.
Let all of life be an unfettered howl.
Release life's rapture.
Everything is blooming.
Everything is flying.
Everything is screaming.
Laughter.
Running.
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