where the tangent is the architecture
I'm an independent bookseller, so please forgive me if I chatter about books. They're almost all I have.
Insane electrified ephemera winking, twitching, tracing, devouring the black hackwork of the present moment.
Our heavy fleshly body decays in just the same way, and our activity will turn into just such a devil’s sabbath of signals if we don’t leave behind us some material proof of having existed.
It is frightening to live in a world that consist only of exclamations and interjections!
"Osip Mandelstam on fireflies. From his “Journey to Armenia”, translated by Clarence Brown, collected in The Noise of Time from Northwestern UP.
9 notes | Permalink
This was featured in #Lit