Based on Oscar Wilde's concept that "no artist desires to prove anything" and that "the artist can express everything", I decided to make a tiny and useless experiment (but Mr Wilde also says that "all art is quite useless"). So, extracted like so many teeth sporting disgusting cavities from a previous anti-narrative exercise, here comes …
Of Nostalgia
I guess I'm just becoming oddly nostalgic, but I found this lying around in my virtual drawer, so I felt I had to post it, poor thing. It's an old-ish poem of mine, which I find I still enjoy. So Many Memories Ago Your arms go back so many memories ago, When the sky was …
Encyclopaedia Vanitatum 