"mattress as thin as a cheese slice, blanket as bobbled as fresh white bread"
i will use this image in everything i ever write goddammit
"There must be something strangely sacred in salt. It is in our tears and in the sea."
after the fall, this was no longer true. names became detached from things; words devolved into a collection of arbitrary sign; language had been severed from god. the story of the garden, therefore, not only records the fall of man, but the fall of language “
paul auster, the new york trilogy
inspired by fionn
the quick of the world
" adam’s one task in the garden had been to invent language, to give each creature and thing its name. in that state of innocence, his tongue had gone straight to the quick of the world. his words had not been merely appended to the things he saw, they had revealed their essence … a thing and its name were interchangeable
The roundabout on Lauriston Road
Is covered in Spring -
Singing flowers like bells on string
And a blanket of low-slung sun
Spun around by girls on bikes
With high-vis and helmets on.