Inelegantly, and without my consent, time passed.

— Miranda July, No One Belongs Here More Than You

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All things considered, what we look for in other people is perhaps the same gentle deterritorialization we look for in travel. The temptation of exile in the desire of another and of journey across that desire come to be substituted for one’s own desire and for discovery. Often looks and amorous gestures already have the distance of exile, language expatriates itself into words which are afraid to mean, the body is like a hologram, gentle on the eye and soft to the touch, and can thus easily be striated in all directions by desire like an aerial space. We move circumspectly within our emotions, passing from one to another, on a mental planet made up of convolutions. And we bring back the same transparent memories from our excesses and passions as we do from our travels.

— Jean Baudrillard, Cool Memories

(Source: sirilaf)

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I am the loneliness of airports.

Heiner Müller, “Hamletmachine”

(Source: fuckyeahgreatplays)

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(Source: inneroptics)

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The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.

— Samuel Beckett, Murphy

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