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Black Letters of my Amusement and Bitterness
The exercice of being better than I'm
11/6/09
“(...) It’s like there isn’t anyone there. You know? You’re like this big, solid, man-shaped hole in the world.” She frowned. “Even when we were together. I loved being with you. You adored me, and you would do anything for me. But sometimes I’d go into a room and I wouldn’t think there was anybody in there. And I’d turn the light one, or I’d turn the light off, and I’d realize that you were in there. Sitting on your own, not reading, not watching TV, not doing anything.”
She hugged him then, as if to take the sting from her words, and she said, “The best thing about Robbie was that he was somebody. He was a jerk sometimes, and He could be a joke... but he was alive, puppy. He wanted things. He filled the space.”
American Gods - Neil Gaiman
(Henry Scott-Tuke - "Seated nude on the beach," 1900 - Oil on Canvas)
She hugged him then, as if to take the sting from her words, and she said, “The best thing about Robbie was that he was somebody. He was a jerk sometimes, and He could be a joke... but he was alive, puppy. He wanted things. He filled the space.”
American Gods - Neil Gaiman
(Henry Scott-Tuke - "Seated nude on the beach," 1900 - Oil on Canvas)
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Toy-Art dedicada a ti para celebrar os tempos de vizinhança fotologuenha:
http://www.fotolog.com.br/interlude/27032838
Geralmente me identifico com as referências aqui.
Essa obra aí do Scott-Tuke já apareceu no meu flog tbm. Adoro as telas dele.
"He wanted things. He filled the space.”
É preciso abrir espaço para certos desejos.
Abraços, D.!