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48918Climbing mountains

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  • shadowed_statue
    Sep 4, 2009
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      To be a woman, and also a philosopher: on this point Nietzsche is silent. I acknowledge his mastery, his uniqueness. In all matters of practical guidance, I will heed Bill's advice. One track of prints in the snow, one invisible companion. England, however, is not remarkable for mountains. Thoughts from the woodland, the meadows, and the dusty pavements connect more readily with the dull realities fostered by democratic structures riddled with concealment and evasion. There's still much to be said for turning aside. Crafting narratives, making verses. Argument requires an adequate context. I've never believed in banging on the table. My lack of belief in addiction, in mental affliction, leave me with no recourse but seduction. Sometimes they call me flower. Is it an insult? Once, I loved a honeybee, and he loved me, passing well. Drunk on Soviet poison, I spit my nectar in your face, you ill-mannered soldier of fortune. The daughter of Empire hides her face, congenitally sorry for excessive power. Why do the bastards give me it, except that they value their feelings higher than their lives? Just not cut out for intrigue. Pass on.

      Louise
      ... preparing for winter