“The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn’t hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for the good it did me.”
Published by kendalllacey
"The nature of uncarved blocks, is how to describe what's hard to describe." Welcome to my world of poems, poets, dreams, dreamers, music and movies. I love Manic Street Preachers, Jonas Brothers, Sylvia Plath, Bret Easton Ellis, WWE, AEW, KISS, My Chemical Romance, Disney, Batman, Steinbeck, Wilde, Camus, Rimbaud, Eli Roth, FINNEAS and Mike Wazowski. View all posts by kendalllacey