Monday, August 29, 2011

Private tragedies

Private tragedies unfolding into public stories. Isn't that what literature is? I just decided that I will embark on writing of my story. I will lack ending at this point. Let me start anyway. It will be called "Breakfast poetry for anorexics". What is human decency? Humanity? Love? Truth? Private tragedies unfolding into gruesome displays of meaningless fucked-up stories. We call that literature these days, don't we. I have a story to tell.

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