Come Home to Me. I have taken down the bleeding crimson curtains in the windows by the hall in favor of colors more reminiscent of the icy winters you're used to, and more resembling the baby blue tulips I have just placed in the box on the ledge of your window. Your room still overlooks the hills, rolling green interrupted only by brush strokes of yellow and indigo weeds. I take it back. They are not all undesirable. I used to know you by a different name. A name with softer consonants and gentler syllables. If you write to me and tell me that is your name no longer, you will never again...
Come Home to Me. I have taken down the bleeding crimson curtains in the windows by the hall in favor of colors more reminiscent of the icy winters you...
"I wish we could live forever," I said, staring out at the silver moon in the black water beneath us. It shivered, uncertain, more of my own reflection than of that still silver face. You squeezed my hand, and we turned to look at each other, but the affection in your green eyes was unbearable, so I shut mine and kissed you on the mouth, slowly and sweetly, like the verses trickling from the stars above us. For in that moment, I wasn't afraid of dying. I wasn't afraid of anything, except of losing you and love - the only fear, it occurred to me, that an immortal man would have.
"I wish we could live forever," I said, staring out at the silver moon in the black water beneath us. It shivered, uncertain, more of my own reflectio...
-Past Memories- She was pregnant. We were sitting in my car when she told me, parked in front of her house. The radio was on. She started crying before she even got the words out, and that's how I knew it was serious. David Bowie was the worst possible soundtrack for the moment but I'll remember that song for as long as I live. I tried to comfort her but the gearstick and the handbrake and the force of lives collapsing got in the way. I think I started crying too. We couldn't even get out and go inside because her parents were home. I didn't say are you sure? or, is it mine? I just wound down...
-Past Memories- She was pregnant. We were sitting in my car when she told me, parked in front of her house. The radio was on. She started crying befor...
Beckett and Levinas are of central importance to critical debates about literary ethics. Rather than suggest the preservation of literary and ethical value in the wake of the WWII, this book argues that both launched a sustained attack on the principles of literature, weaving narrative, and descriptive doubt through phenomenology, prose, and drama.
Beckett and Levinas are of central importance to critical debates about literary ethics. Rather than suggest the preservation of literary and ethical ...
