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mattresses

We spend a third of our life on mattresses. We sleep, dream, cuddle, fuck, drink coffee, read, recover, and die on them. We stain them. We piss on them as kids. Dab blood from them with cold rags. We make them in the morning. Living in a city means walking by abandoned mattresses on a regular basis. In Berlin, someone would tag them with black spray paint shit like “IT’S OVER” or “LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL.” I like how this one’s stained by whoknowshowmany years, but through a tear, some silky beauty’s still intact. 

gone West

He has rejected a great many books that he liked before the War, as well as a great many trends in painting or music, because they have not stood the test of experience. The work of human thought should withstand the test of brutal, naked reality. If it cannot, it is worthless. Probably only those things are worth while which can preserve their validity in the eyes of man threatened with instant death.”

-Czeslaw Milosz
The Captive Mind

ink

‘… Your mother will be coming any moment now, and she’ll teach you many things.’ Eleseus is eager to learn and asks, ‘When you write on paper, what does it feel like?’—’It feels like almost nothing,’ the father answers, ‘just like being empty-handed.’—’But doesn’t he slip, like on the ice?’—’Who?’—’The pen you write with?’—’Uh-huh. Well you have to learn to steer him.'”

-Knut Hamsun
Growth of the Soil