boy, that's not your look

Light the lanterns, blow out the lanterns, cover the lanterns. What do I care? What do people amount to in this house?

People like you can’t move until someone spoon-feeds you shit or misery or gossip.

Someone like you? You’re pioneering the new dawn of democracy? Piss off!

is this truth? is this real? is there something more to feel?
do we chase the sensation of lying uphill?
have we now reached the end just to find the beginning again?

I hope life on Earth is everything you remember it to be.

Edvard Munch - The Sick Child, 1907. Oil on canvas.

From the Tate Gallery:

The Sick Child touches on the fragility of life. It draws upon Munch’s personal memories, including the trauma of his sister’s death, and visits to dying patients with his doctor father. He described the 1885 painting as ‘a breakthrough in my art’ and made several subsequent versions, of which this is the fourth.

“Every human being is a collection of selves, we never stay one person as we go on our journey to the grave. I’m all these different people, all these different people are me.”

“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago. Dare not say that a man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.”
- Persuasion, Ch. 23

He shook hands with Margaret. He knew it was the first time their hands had met, though she was perfectly unconscious of the fact.