We dream without memory, in such a way that the dream of any particular night is no doubt a fragment of a response to an immemorial dying, barred by desire’s repetitiousness. There is no stop, there is no interval between dreaming and waking Maurice Blanchot
The writing of Helaena C Moon
Best not to look down that ghastly, grim, black path. The one you shuffled down to get here. That horrific entrance to your now. Turn defiantly away from it. Your ghost still lingers there… And if you are not careful, it will catch you.