(no subject)

my fingertips smell of eucalyptus and are bruised from rose thorns
and that is somehow poetic


( translation )

(no subject)

"We have no bird in our hands, living or dead. We have only you and our important question. Is the nothing in our hands something you could not bear to contemplate, to even guess? Don't you remember being young when language was magic without meaning? When what you could say, could not mean? When the invisible was what imagination strove to see? When questions and demands for answers burned so brightly you trembled with fury at not knowing?"

(http://www.nobel.se/literature/laureates/1993/morrison-lecture.html)