fromaroom fromaroom's profile Peter / Member since October 2007 / Last seen 9 months ago

The black dogs have lost 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 story (the only one he ever wrote) the idealist worked in the mortuary, prettifying corpses with chemicals: a slave to fatality, and all the rest of it. He worked with nervous attention to detail, and in the evenings sank into torpor. But this is real life now, these winds are blowing the dust off my desk; these words are being made flesh. And whatever lasts will and whatever doesn’t won’t. I’ll run through any season’s weather. I’ll drink from a different cup. Then another.

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Notes From A Rooom

Notes From A Rooom

http://notesfromaroom.wordpress.com

Literary meditations and explorations. This blog's main influences are Rilke and Leonard Cohen.

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