Of the nature of words, the name of things, and perfect drama (part 2)
Poeticism has turned into something of an insincere practice in our society. It’s as if the modern human can’t stomach anything that isn’t given to him...
Poeticism has turned into something of an insincere practice in our society. It’s as if the modern human can’t stomach anything that isn’t given to him...
I rewrote the first sentence of this particularly unwieldy piece of prose a dozen times before settling for one that felt right. It was important that...
Much too often, I find myself musing over how fleeting life is. I don’t suppose I fear death, yet I am afraid of dying. People worry...