Octavio Solis > Recent Status Updates

Strange literature from a strange artist. Utterly original voice. But weird.

“The sorrow is that every soul is put out of house.”

“To crave and to have are as like as a thing and its shadow. For when does a berry break upon the tongue as sweetly as when one longs to taste it, and when is the taste refracted into so many hues and savors of ripeness and earth, and when do our senses know any thing so utterly as when we lack it? And here again… —the world will be made whole. For to wish for a hand on one’s hair is all but to feel it.”

“Dawn and its excesses always reminded me of heaven, a place where I have always known I would not be comfortable. They reminded me of my grandfather’s paintings, which I have always taken to be his vision of heaven. And it was he who brought us here, to this bitter moon-pulled lake, trailing us after him unborn, like the infants he painted on dresser drawers, whose garments swam in some ethereal current…”

A sumptuous feast.