It’s a sunny or rainy or windy day, but our feelings control the weather and we keep it confusingly under control, prudently avoiding an unnatural disaster while we dream of warmer places, where thunderstorms just naturally happen

the New, forgetful matriphagous offspring Dear A I write this letter with a heavy heart I know this will be as hard for you as it is for me I feel its important for you to have it if you forget what happened I still care for you I survived…

The past thick dark fog deafening noise conflicting voices Condensed creates the present the city itself, its signs human folly scars Look closer From the bridge simple day of spring sun reflected in the water cherry trees, newborn green grass The present not a culmination of the past but defiance Nature’s blissful indifference

The ambulances come and go, loud as fuck, who knows where from and where to, day and night, weekdays and weekends, in meticulously selected random intervals, perfectly timed to disturb everything mundane. A sip of tea. A word. A kiss. Do you really have to, for the sake of a single man, aggressively remind the rest of the Universe of its heat death? Exhausted, I had to leave Boddinstraße, but it didn’t leave me: survivor’s guilt.

That a serious and good philosophical work could be written that would consist entirely of jokes. So can a unserious and bad one. The analysis of on Much attention has been devoted to analyzing articles like if, and, or, it, this, and that. …

A movie is a window or a mirror? Windows open to the outside, mirrors, to the inside. Melancholia doesn’t seem to fit any alternative. It doesn’t automatically give us any insight into ourselves or the outer world. Nevertheless, it seems to produce a powerful effect in the attentive spectator. Why? Soundtrack …