The fantasy and the
reality – they floated on two different planes of existence but are too
dependent on each other. The reality is a room illuminated by a lamp, the frame
of the bed creaking, and the accelerated, heavy bang
of blood being pumped southward. The fantasy is an excerpt of Barthes’ The Lover’s Discourse breathed into the
ear, though with more air than vocal vibrations, and a twenty-something professor
chasing and escaping just as fast. The mind is a deity and Satan altogether. Inside
it is the ruckus of the night; outside are sweat, palpitation, muscle
contractions.
Tuesday 22 October 2013
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