Im haunted a little this evening by feelings that have no vocabulary and events that should be explained in dimensions of lint rather than words. Ive 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 (1995). “Revenge of the Lawn, The Abortion, So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away”, p.125, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
