“if it is too hot in ergastulum turn the fanon …
Tomorrow will never come
at least not as expected
but, we could become it”
Kathe Koja, The Cipher
Simon Marsh, Planning for Nature
Phoebe Giannisi, chimera
Flann O’Brien, The Poor Mouth
Izzeldin Abuelaish, I Shall Not Hate
Jorie Graham, [To] The Last [Be] Human
James Joyce, Ulysses (this may be here a while)
To love is merely to grow tired of being alone: it is therefore both cowardly and a betrayal of ourselves.
Vicente Guedes (Fernando Pessoa), The Book of Disquiet, trans. Margaret Jull Costa