Realism.s

My own particular brand of bleak is firm, and unambiguous enough to recognise our dark as a basic truth: the world-rending fire of the human soul is fearsome, yet only another face of the death seeded so deeply within us. But bleak is neither black nor white, only barren -- and what is barrenness but…Read more Realism.s

vapour

again and again overwhelmed by tears that do not come heating my face, burning my eyes, stoppering my throat like a cork in a bottle the possible and the real take a back seat to everything that is not the darkness i feel, like my soul evaporating within c. Kate Gough, 17.11.2017

Grey

  https://youtu.be/808nTiXLam8 I’m still in this place. Sometimes it seems I never leave. * Gallery, 2014 Imagine, if you will a gallery piece installed, a row of plants at progressing stages of growth, lined up in pots and flash-frozen in time, breathing cold puffs, crystalline almost synthetic. Imagine also the moment the exhibit starts to disintegrate, freeing gouged…Read more Grey

The Ever-Processing Machine

I can’t find my incense. I don’t want to write. I desperately want nothing more than to write. For ever. So then, perhaps I’m just a stymied masochist at heart(less), doomed to miserable inaction for the rest of my days. I do not dedicate myself as I should, as I need. . . There’s a…Read more The Ever-Processing Machine

Thoreau on the (Hu)man

"See how he cowers and sneaks, how vaguely all day he fears, not being immortal or divine, but the slave and prisoner of his own opinion of himself, a fame won by his own deeds. Public opinion is a weak tyrant compared with our own private opinion. . . Think, also, of the ladies of…Read more Thoreau on the (Hu)man