Friday, June 5, 2009


When he is sober, he does not speak because he knows he will be speaking to walls. When he drinks, he wants to speak and does so, forgetting that he is speaking to walls. When he sobers up, he regrets what he said. And regrets the forgetting.

But the walls are the same regardless.

Who is there to hear the tree falling in the forest? Who can speak the language?

Life is merely the art of forgetting.

I believe I actually have a record I'd like to post here, soon.

No comments: