All of us together, pretending to be happy, are what we appear to be.
Tag: Fiction
Everywhere life returns to the Earth; everywhere there is romance and love and intercourse. And so I throw myself into it, with abandon, with all that I have. I have crossed the Lubicon, shouting, “Alea ejecta est!”
They did not ask for the journey, and we don’t want to know too much about it, but they return holding a marvellous gem that they alone can explain. A gem from a dream of the departed who haunt them. A dream not of the day but of the relentless, interminable day. A fascinating gem that I do not want to ever hold.
Mr Htimsbackwards, my friend, perhaps even my conscience, perhaps my only friend and my only…
• Week of 02.01.2017 Honest Ed’s | Joseph Boyden | Mark Twain on Wearing White…
The man who drains the swamp in metaphorical reality goes to Washington and amasses money and power.
I have been summoned by the President-elect, Mr. Crusher. He wishes to speak to me of peace. Not only of peace, but of war. And not only of peace and of war, but of the Middle East. You see, Mr. Crusher believes that he can bring peace to the Middle East.
