in this (my) neighborhood pt. 106

What I’m Reading:

… Death and those who use or serve it—this I did not feel or sense (because I refused to) but I knew it was in the air as sure as I sensed the movement of the breeze among the areca leaves right behind me in the courtyard.

— G. Cabrera Infante / “The Doors Open at Three”

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About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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