— Charles Bukowski (via forlornes)
If now, from the standpoint of this last consideration, we contemplate the turmoil of life, we behold all occupied with its want and misery, straining all their powers to satisfy its infinite needs and to ward off its multifarious sorrows, yet without daring to hope anything else than simply the preservation of this tormented existence for a short span of time. In between, however, in the midst of the tumult, we see the glances of two lovers meet longingly; yet why so secretly, fearfully, and stealthily? Because the lovers are the traitors who seek to perpetuate the whole want and drudgery, which would otherwise speedily reach an end; this they wish to frustrate, as others like them have frustrated it before.
"One of the philosophical questions this film asks is whether we are merely the sum of our memories or if there’s more to us than a summation of past experiences. Would erasing an incident from our micro-history do us any good? Would a woman erasing the memory of a rape make her happier or would removing the incident do more damage to her life than the actual incident itself? Hence, she wouldn’t have learned anything from it or become the stronger person she is today. Is ignorance indeed bliss?"
I crave white on white and black, but my thoughts race in glorious Technicolor prodding me awake, whipping away the warm blanket of invisibility every time it swears to smother my mind in nothing.
The world changes sometimes
It starts as a big blue ice
then it melts as the dogmas slip away
from the hands of the strangers.
And when it melts it is beautiful…
Everything that makes a soul dance.
No squares or other shapes,
freely and eternally