What happens when you let an unsatisfactory present go on long enough? It becomes your entire history.
How come we've got these bodies? They are frail supports for what we feel. There are times I get so hemmed in by my arms and legs I look forward to getting past them. As though death will set me free like a traveling cloud... I'll be out there as a piece of the endless body of the world feeling pleasures so much larger than skin and bones and blood.
To think about love and passion and political correctness all together, it doesn't work. Art has to go way past the political to be effective.
