dark light makes me feel infinite; the streetlight kind that peeks through sheer curtains at midnight, the natural dull clay-light of the sky at 4:58am, sitting in the shadows when the down lights are low in the next room, making tea in the kitchen with only the soft blue stove fire to barely light the immediate area; there is infinity in the near-total darkness, infinity with the hopeful almost-light.
when u first read the secret history it’s like oh, what an elegant and deep piece of literature. and then ur like…………bunny steals a frozen cheesecake from someone on financial aid. charles gets high and kills a bee at the funeral of his friend, who he helped to murder. henry didn’t know that people landed on the moon. richard thinks he’s straight. francis is hesitant that their alibi is going to the theater because he doesn’t want people to think he went to see such terrible movies. “and as we leave donne and walton on the shores of metahemeralism, we wave a fond farewell to those famous chums of yore.“ what the hell is going on in this book