Monday, December 1, 2014


Somehow, the dark sun will illuminate us. (555)

This, leafing again through Sirc's "Godless Composition, Tormented Writing," for tomorrow's grad class, third to last of the semester. Reading this line again makes me think that Bataille's wonderment is thick in the ground just beneath the site where the still-unbuilt hacienda would if it could one-day stand.

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