Friday, 7 February 2014
In mourning it is the world which has become poor and empty; in melancholia it is the ego itself
Labels:
alciato,
etruscan torture,
freud,
object
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He smiled, eyes sliding out of focus. "I was dreaming…" "Dreaming what?" "I don't remember… we were singing. In the rain…
“Bobby, do you know what a metaphor is?”
“A component, like a capacitor?”
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