Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.
The sea, he thought, had treasured it's memories deeper than the faithless land.
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The sea, he thought, had treasured it's memories deeper than the faithless land.
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He felt more crypts cracking open inside of him; the stench he smelled was not decayed bodies but decayed memories, and that was somehow worse.
His was a great sin who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours.
There's no consciousness without senses and memories.
You sea! I resign myself to you also-I guess what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked fingers, I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me.We must have a turn together,I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land,Cushion me soft, rock me billowy drowse,Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.
No child should ever be too sad to play.