[Poetry] may make us from time to time a little aware of the deeper unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.
T.S.Eliot
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
Our Blind Spot
Like a walking moth, I'm still allure by weird atmospheres created by a simple street lamp.
No comments:
Post a Comment