/lit/ - Literature

>open blinds
>only see concrete everywhere
>no trees in sight
>dirty and broken windows
>paint falling of the houses' walls
>old acrylic billboards with blurry logos of companies that no longer exist, decolored by time
>everything is tinted orange and yellow by the smog-defused light of a merciless sun
>intense dry heat 12 hours every day
>by night the heat lingers because there soo much has been trapped in the concrete during the day
>neighbors start getting home from their jobs
>the sounds of shouting, hood music, barks and stuff crashing starts filling the air
>falling asleep to the rhythm of the cacophony that surrounds me, only some rgb lights revealing the contour of my body laying on a bed
>g-god, are you there? I...d-don't know if I want to wake up tomorrow...

I saw someone die today. Some homeless dude. Probably overdosed on something. They tried to recover him, but he was a goner. He had his eyes wide open and an ecstatic smile stuck on his face. My only thought was: "You're free now, my brother". I was kind of happy for him. Finit blog post.

>>11975105
have you read Dune? would be the obvious choice

>Sunlight no longer poured through the clerestory windows, only the play of shadows emerged. Rising from my pathetic pose, I once again climbed onto the table. Twilight’s ethereal reign was fast approaching, and with it, the mingling of shades, the evaporation of color, and the opening of a door to a new form of perception. The hedge green was more pronounced, taking on the glow of muted neon; the swaying cypresses seemed to emanate a vague tone of prussian blue; and crowing it all was the transparent upper bulb, through which I gazed upon the delicate sky, daubed with hues of lavender and saffron that seemed to waft like holy incense from a priest’s thurible. As the night overcame this brilliant dance, I slumped back into the workshop, feet crunching against the shards of glass, and sat once more against the wall, taking full view of the destruction, the fruit of my labor. Man is little better than a beast when confronted with the unknown. He backs himself into a corner, governed by fear, and lashes out with blind violence. Over the course of an hour, my eyes began to droop, betraying a state of utter exhaustion. During childhood I learned that it indeed possible escape the shame of impotence, a feeling seemingly inherent in all pursuits, by blowing out the candle of consciousness and fleeing into the darkness from which I came. Why stray from the timeworn path, it had served me well thus far.

The Fly Trap - Fredrik Sjöberg
Violence and Violins - József Nagyvary
My Struggle Volume 5 - Karl Knausgaard
Aladdin's Problem - Ernst Jünger
The Emigrants - WB Sebald
Growth of the Soil - Knut Hamsun
War and Turpentine - Stefan Hertmans
Sportman's Notebook - Ivan Turgenev
Extinction - Thomas Bernhard
Austerlitz - WB Sebald
Memoir of Hungary - Sandor Márai
Ana Edes - Dezső Kosztolányi
Childhood's End - Arthur C. Clarke
Details in Time - Ernst Jünger
Confusions of Young Törless - Robert Musil
Your Self Confident Baby - Magda Gerber
Portraits of a Marriage - Sandor Márai
Katalin Street - Magda Szabo
Glass Bees - Ernst Jünger
School on the Frontier - Géza Ottlik
Dark Diamonds - Mór Jókai
The Worker - Ernst Jünger