Copy ImageBooks are finite, sexual encounters are finite, but the desire to read and to fuck is infinite; it surpasses our own deaths, our fears, our hopes for peace
Roberto Bolaño
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Nothing good ever comes of love. What comes of love is always something better
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The sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower
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Even on the poorest streets people could be heard laughing. Some of these streets were completely dark, like black holes, and the laughter that came from who knows where was the only sign, the only beacon that kept residents and strangers from getting lost
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Metaphors are our way of losing ourselves in semblances or treading water in a sea of seeming
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