"'Jack, I swear --' he said, though Jack had never asked him to swear anything and was himself not the swearing kind.
Around that time Jack began to appear in his dreams, Jack as he had first seen him, curly-headed and smiling and bucktoothed, talking about getting up off his pockets and into the control zone, but the can of beans with the spoon handle jutting out and balanced on the log was there as well, in a cartoon shape and lurid colors that gave the dreams a flavor of comic obscenity. The spoon handle was the kind that could be used as a tire iron. And he would wake sometimes in grief, sometimes with the old sense of joy and release; the pillow sometimes wet, sometimes the sheets. There was some open space between what he knew and what he tried to believe, but nothing could be done about it, and if you can't fix it you've got to stand it."
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i will die without routine. also this routine is killing me
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this is kind of changing my life as we speak
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deleting files makes me so scared what if i Needed That
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Agustรญn Gรณmez Arcos, The Carnivorous Lamb ย
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wound tending is everything. unparalleled intimacy. let me care for you. let me touch the skin around your open flesh. let me stain my hands with your blood. let me get close and breathe in the same air as you and stare into your eyes for a few seconds too long. let me make you think of me every time you see the bandage, or scar
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The Smokehouse Creek Fire, Canadian, Texas
image credit: David Erickson/AP
via: The Guardian
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