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I turn back, lean both hands on the balustrade. The true sea is cold and black, full of animals; it crawls under this thin green film made to deceive human beings. The sylphs all round me have let themselves be taken in: they only see the thin film, which proves the existence of god. I see beneath it! The veneer melts, the shining velvety scales, the scales of God's catch explode everywhere at my look, they split and gape.
A house offers me its black heart through open windows;
Things are divorced from their names.
-nausea
1 comment:
The first paragraph reminds me of Theatre class; next week I must embody a desert for three minutes and receive 25% of my grade.
Sylphs are toothsome.
In this case, nausea, was very pleasurable.
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