/lit/ - Literature

Waiting at a bus stop has the same melancholy idleness that I have carried with me like a fire through my whole life. The tender feeling of anxious dislocation is probably something close to the true dimension of existence, if I dare even wonder.

Based on nothing whatsoever that would satisfy the people who charge themselves with investigating such claims, and with no elaboration except between God and myself, I have long concluded that my thoughts are sacred.