image from Homocore Toronto, no. 2, 1993
(via alerioon)
image from Homocore Toronto, no. 2, 1993
(via alerioon)
Collage by Peter Christopherson. 1976
(via what-i-see)
There’s been alot of upsetting, very upsetting things that I can’t allow to happen anymore. I have to be like a soldier and march away.
‘Cause I’m very delicate in a lot of ways, and things get to me, and effect me… in a very adverse manner. I don’t need that; don’t need that.
I feel now like minus something, you know, I feel faded; I don’t feel like I’m all here.
I think it’ll come back; I hope it’ll come back. There’s alot of colour missing, from the way I feel, and my face, and, you know, just everything.
There’s some kind of zest, or…life, you know, that seems to be faded temporarily, because I’ve been so drained, emotionally, by a number of things.
That has to slowly build back up, and then it has to be kept sustatined; it cannot be allowed to be diminished.
(via decayedintelligence)
Flowers above the high walls of the neighborhood villas in Algiers. Another world from which I felt exiled.
The tragedy is not that we are alone, but that we cannot be. At times I would give anything in the world to no longer be connected by anything to this universe of men. But I am a part of this universe, and the most courageous thing to do is to accept it and the tragedy at the same time.
Humanism. I do not like humanity in general. In myself I sense primarily solidarity with it, which is not the same thing. And then I love some men, alive or dead, with so much admiration that I am always jealous or anxious to protect or defend in all the others that which, by chance or on some day that I cannot foresee, has made or will make them like the former.
(via hate-wizard)