Journal 12

PassereCatulli 2017-08-12

The idea of writing suddenly seemed repulsive to me last night, why should I write, if you wouldn't even deign to glance over it? Two days ago I promised to myself this journal wouldn't become a project of self-pitting, but I guess keeping up promises is never my strong suit.

If one day I were to die, take my love for you to fuel my pyre, then it shall burn unendingly.

Up to Pg 231 with "Mayakovsky, A Biography".

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