Write or Die

Write or Die I slept 12 hours. I wanted to meditate but that would send me back to sleep. So I washed my face with cold water, I looked at the mirror. I hardly remembered where I left myself yesterday, who I was planning to become, what did I become when I last stared at…

And a Philosopher Goes to a Whore

And a Philosopher Goes to a Whore Endless arguments through which men seemed to be searching the truth had finally tired him in one of the cold British evening in December. It was almost the end of the year and he was melancholic once again. “It is all nonsense; constant classification, definitions, explanations, all nonsense!”…