05
Oct
i came upon this nondescript vertical slit in a nondescript pink wall somewhere near a nondescript piramide.
curioser and curioser…
The feel of not to feel it,
When there is none to heal it,
Nor numbed sense to steel it,
Was never said in rhyme.
his grave does not bear his name.
three guesses? extra points if you don’t touch google.
1 Comment to “my imagination is a monastery and i am its monk”
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No one has responded, so I shall.
Keats. I’m going to see it this weekend.