In every man sleeps a prophet, and when he wakes there is a little more evil in the world. - Emil Cioran
Sunday, March 24, 2019
Samuel Beckett from Play
morning as I was sitting stitching by the open window she burst in and
flew at me. Give him up, she screamed, he’s mine. Her photographs were
kind to her. Seeing her now for the first time full length in the flesh I
understood why he preferred me.