Gaurav Sagar > Recent Status Updates

We all try to protect yourselves against reality.

We live in the forests of our dreams and our desires.

I have always been a creature of habit, he said. I was a creature of habit before I married and I remained one after my marriage.

It was the routine that kept me going.

The priority juvenile docket, in sum, was the government's coldest, cruelest possible answer to the arrival of refugee children. Ethically, that answer was more than questionable. In legal terms, it was a kind of backdoor escape route to avoid dealing with an impending reality suddenly knocking at the country's front doors.

And sure enough, they were lying close together, arm to arm, and their naked feet were touching us. And suddenly they stirred and swayed and rose up in the same orderly rows: the earth was throwing up new bodies, and they were lifting the first ones upwards.

...That's the red laugh. When the earth goes mad, it begins to laugh like that. You know, the earth has gone mad. There are no more flowers or songs on it; it has become round, smooth and red like a scalped head. Do you see it >\?

In the daytime I can still fight against it, but during the night I become, as everybody else does, the slave of my dreams- and my dreams are terrible and full of madness....

They had detached themselves from me, those madly quivering fingers, they were alive, they had become ears and eyes; and, growing cold from horror, without the strength to move or cry out, I watched their wild dance over the clean, bright white page.

To the left of me a row of dim lights floated past- it was the train. I was alone- amidst the dead and dying.

.....I am going mad from dirt, while you talk of - home! I am like an animal, I despise myself, I cannot recognize myself, and death is not at all terrifying.

Being able to remain on that dizzying crest- that is integrity and the rest is subterfuge.

My madness no longer arose from my uneasiness nor from my concern for Nathalie, but from an impatience which grew with each passing minute and which went beyond any purpose, turning me into a wanderer in search of nothing.

But it was there that my weakness lay - not in the fight itself, which sought only one outcome, but in my misguided lucidity, which made me assume that it had a different outcome and denounce its intentions.

Now then, take a good look at death.

That night she stood outside his room and listened to him whimper. The sound was a series of weak cries, half cries, dull and uniform, and it had a faint echo, a feedback, and carried a desolation that sept aside words, hers or anyone's.

I am asking you nice. Be my friend. A trusted person, this is a friend. Do this for me.

Say some words to say some words.

VLADIMIR: We'll hang ourselves tomorrow. Unless Godot comes.

One day, is that enough for you, one day like any other day, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.

VLADIMIR: How time flies when one has fun!

ESTRAGON: Que voulez-vous ?

Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattman of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine athambis divine aphasia loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell and suffers like the divine..............

POZZO: I hope I'm not driving you away. Wait a little longer, you'll never regret it.

I ran to him, and there, up against the cliff in between the white shells, a higuerilla was growing. I looked for a long time at its rough leaves, its coarse stem, its pods covered in spikes that cut any hand that tries to caress them. My eyes clouded over.

When everything had grown dark and silent, Astrides lifted the flowerpot over his head and dashed it to the ground. The sound of the pottery smashing brought him to his senses: in every shard he recognized a piece of his broken dream. And he felt a terrible sense of shame, as if a dog had just urinated on him

so things may change no answer end no answer I may choke no answer sink no answer sully the mud no more no answer the dark no answer trouble the peace no more no answer the silence no answer die no answer DIE screams I MAY DIE screams I SHALL DIE screams good

there he is then at last that one of us there we are then at last who listens to himself and who when he lends his ear to our murmur does no more than lend it to a story of his own devising ill-inspired ill- told and so ancient so forgotten at each telling that ours may seem faithful that we murmur to the mud to him.

...from the nothing come back from the nothing the surprise to find myself alone at last no more Pim me alone in the dark the mud end at last of part two how it was with Pim leaving at last of part two how it was with Pim leaving at last only part three and last how it was after Pim before Bom how it is that's how it was with Pim

Now, I'm sow most of the time. It's more convenient for life in the forest.