spring pastoral (fragments)

In the country, the country was to me, a series of images. You come here to not be you. You come for the silence of the world; all the silence of blustering humanity and your own dreadful ego. You come here just to watch.

enjoy the silence

Please pardon my absence. It’s term paper-time and I’ve suffered a massive over-exposure to Derrida and going home to what is essentially Hobbiton where it’s all sunshine and woods turns me into a very bad poet. Sometimes we’re better off for the silence.

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