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Christine. XVI.
Las Vegas.

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moscow:

“To liveis always convolutedit constantly harms the so-called Self. What a sloppy mess it is to live.I am doing todaywhat I was appalled to see others doing a few days ago.While I allow myself love and happinessthe world becomes ambiguous at the point of touching anotherwhat my eyes see during the day will not revert to the            anonymity of NatureBorn like mushrooms from the great earthwe walk on along our paths.Beautiful lumps of flesh, slack lumps of fleshdifferent shapes placed over different masses –allowing skin to blur the lines our eyes seewe see what is vulnerable, and know what is threatened”
"I felt like crying but nothing came out. It was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can’t feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. But I think I have known it pretty often, too often." by Charles Bukowski 

(Source: cite-belle)