I’m haunted a little this evening by feelings that have no vocabulary and events that should be explained in dimensions of lint rather than words.
I’ve been examining half-scraps of my childhood. They are pieces of distant life that have no form or meaning. They are things that just happened like lint.
—Richard Brautigan
March 26, 2009, 9:13pm
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Thanks, tumblr, for the perfect...just when I needed it.
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I love Richard Brautigan. From the couple books of his poetry of my Dad’s that I read, I have come to the conclusion...
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