birsel demirci
@birsel6
6 okur puanı
Mart 2021 tarihinde katıldı
A bad dream to the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream
Her çiçeğin bir mevsimi, her kitabın bir zamanı vardır. Haziranın tadını yeni hikâyelerle çıkarın.
Because wherever I sat - on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok- I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air
I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo
