There is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others…; there’s something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas.

– Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Idiot

Rage

I want to talk about female rage yes rage female not theoretically no not feminist rage no female rage in…

Iceberg

A bottle of beer smashed on the pavement, while he sat there lighted by a lamp-post, acknowledging no before and…

… freedom which on this earth can only be bought by a thousand of the hardest sacrifices, must be enjoyed unrestrictedly in its fullness, without any kind of pragmatic calculation, as long as it lasts…

– André Breton, Nadja

Bumble

I stumbled through the streets where urine and flowers melt in odour quite like ourselves the eyeliner smirring into eyeshadow…

I am dépaysée in extrovert life – I lose my soul, my dreams. I would like to lie at the bottom of the sea, live there au fond des choses, toujours au fond.

– Anaïs Nin, diary (1932-1934)

The buzz of Slovenian music

The emptiness of the scene, its lack of quality and diversity, the awfulness of the general taste. Nope, don’t know what you’re talking about… I think you’re just looking the wrong way!

I choose love.

I’m done, I’m over responding with hatred and anger and scorn and fear and cynicism, I’m just done. I choose love, even when that means silence, even when that doesn’t necessarily mean hope.