fromaroom's profile Peter / Male / Member since October 2007 / Last seen 2 months ago
The black dogs are losing my scent; I hear one of them’s become a guide dog for the blind man down the street. I’ve started dreaming at night. In the old story (the only one he ever wrote) the idealist worked in the mortuary, prettifying corpses with chemicals. He worked hard then sank into torpor: a eunuch daydreamer on a stingy island. But this new breath of wind is blowing the dust off my desk, the island is budding with words and images.
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- Published a new blog post: Tarkovsky and Bergman2 days ago
- Published a new blog post: The yoga of despair4 days ago
- Published a new blog post: The cleaning lady4 days ago
- Published a new blog post: Philosophical talent4 days ago
- Published a new blog post: Untitled6 days ago
- Published a new blog post: This is goodbye7 days ago
- Published a new blog post: The hermit7 days ago
- Published a new blog post: Dusk7 days ago
- Published a new blog post: Intellectual aims7 days ago
- Published a new blog post: A winter coat in Africa7 days ago
- Published a new blog post: You disappear7 days ago
- Published a new blog post: ‘I am not an artist’7 days ago
- Published a new blog post: The longest road7 days ago
- Published a new blog post: I start talking7 days ago
- Published a new blog post: A call9 days ago
