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eye wide open

her story writes itself

27 January
the timeline is fuxored

I have flung myself naked into the night dying of fear that I will be unlucky and once and for all break all my bones and all my souls. Dying of desire to fall as luckily as an escaping star falling for a long time at a crazy speed and whistling in the intoxicating darkness of night back to the breast of the sea, like the angel at the top of the ladder who madly merrily dives into ever-blacker erotic darkness ever brighter ever sweeter and becomes a silver-feathered arrow and wants to end up embedded in the heart of the volcano it came from.
excerpt from The Book of Promethea by Helene Cixous


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