I Write To Save Someone's Life, Probably

Even Great Men Are Only Truly Recognized And Honored Once They Are Dead. Why? Because Those Who Praise Them Need To Feel Themselves Somehow Superior To The Person Praised, They Need To Feel They Are Making Some Concession.

Ela Acreditava Em Anjo E, Porque Acreditava, Eles Existiam" | "she Believed In Angels, And, Because She Believed, They Existed

But I Welcome The Darkness Where The Two Eyes Of That Soft Panther Glow. The Darkness Is My Cultural Broth. The Enchanted Darkness. I Go On Speaking To You, Risking Disconnection: I’m Subterraneously Unattainable Because Of What I Know.

And Even Sadness Was Also Something For Rich People, For People Who Could Afford It, For People Who Didn't Have Anything Better To Do. Sadness Was A Luxury.

How Was She To Tie Herself To A Man Without Permitting Him To Imprison Her? And Was There Some Means Of Acquiring Things Without Those Things Possessing Her?