They were only unshed tears brushed under a rug, but to him, they felt like thousands of tiny moons filling up a grave in a gift-wrapped burden. Co-existing amidst dust balls born out of boredom, he was barely half-man but brightly haunted by forsaken prophecies. The fading velvet blues of his bruises tasted like laundered requiems sinking ships beneath the Seven Seas. Howling at the rising tide that prodded his abdomen, he kneeled before the harpsichord and belted out an anthem submerged in sepia tones. Time ground to a halt between the pinched strings where he sought to embrace his next of kin only to find his distilled self staring right back at him. Closing in on the next incumbent, he yelled “This one is mine!” to a spectre handing out newborn mugshots in exchange for penicillin kisses. There was now only one eulogy left to read: “Tomorrow, same time, same place, we’ll do it all over again.”
Distilled self
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Distilled self
They were only unshed tears brushed under a rug, but to him, they felt like thousands of tiny moons filling up a grave in a gift-wrapped burden. Co-existing amidst dust balls born out of boredom, he was barely half-man but brightly haunted by forsaken prophecies. The fading velvet blues of his bruises tasted like laundered…
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The poetics of space and materiality
A thunderstorm was approaching, and it had started to rain. Émile hurried towards a traditional two-storey Provençal house with its weathered ochre façade, small windows adorned with lavender wooden shutters, and a low-pitched roof topped with terracotta tiles in soft peach and salmon shades. He was visiting his long-time friend Albert, who lived there, tucked…
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Under the knife
This was all too familiar. An unsuspecting patient laid on the operating table under general anaesthesia, ready to undergo life-changing surgery in the expert hands of Dr Geoffrey Payne. I never understood why people would go in for his “miraculous” extreme weight loss program. I guess that’s the power of modern advertising and its catchy…