The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener
seen from China

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from South Africa

seen from Belarus

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Australia
The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener
dumb, Jesus Christ, some people are so dumb you can hear them splashing around in their dumbness as their eyes look out of their heads. they have most of their parts: hands, feet, ears, legs, elbows, intestines, fingernails, noses and so forth but there’s nothing there yet they are able to speak, form sentences— but what comes out of their mouths are the stalest concepts, the most warped beliefs, they are the repository of all the obvious stupidities they have stuffed themselves with and it hurts me to look at them to listen to them, I want to run and hide I want to escape their engulfing nullity there is no horror movie worse, no murder as unsolved but the world goes on and they go on dumbly slamming my guts to pieces. Charles Bukowski
“So quiet are the green woods Of our homeland, The crystalline wave Dying away by the ruined wall, And we wept in sleep; Wandering with timid steps Down past the thorny thicket, Singers in summer's eve, In the sacred peace Of the far resplendent vineyard; Shadows now in the cool womb Of night, grief-stricken eagles. As gently does a moonlit beam close The scarlet scars of melancholy.”
“Spiders seek my heart. There is a light that dies in my mouth. At night I found myself upon a heath, Thick with filth and stardust. In the hazel copse Crystal angels have chimed again.”
“Cold metal walks across my forehead, spiders search for my heart. It is a light that goes out in my mouth...”
THAT crazed girl improvising her music. Her poetry, dancing upon the shore, Her soul in division from itself Climbing, falling She knew not where, Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship, Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing Heroically lost, heroically found. No matter what disaster occurred She stood in desperate music wound, Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph Where the bales and the baskets lay No common intelligible sound But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea.'