are the kind we could write ourselves
if we had to.
It matters not if i am known. Or remain a mystery. The matter is that i am wholly me.
Not wanting accolades or seeking a tribe. The tribe always moves on to bigger houses and better views. I choose to stay in my shell.
And in my space, i read the kind of book that stabs and wounds. If the book doesn’t wake me with a blow to the head, what am i reading for?
We need books that affect us like a disaster. That grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves. Like being banished into forests far from everyone. Like a suicide.
A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.
seasons: a poetic journey 