Your Shadow Tells The Story Of What You Could Have Been. Https://www.instagram.com/p/Ckk4sGRD34y/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

Let your devil come inside, let your soul fly up to the sky. Your dreams were a lie, you're not worth a life.

@do4h

“When Kafka allows a friend to understand that he writes because otherwise he would go mad, he knows that writing is madness already, his madness, a kind of vigilance, unrelated to any wakefulness save sleep’s: insomnia. Madness against madness, then. But he believes that he masters the one by abandoning himself to it; the other frightens him, and is his fear; it tears through him, wounds and exalts him. It is as if he had to undergo all the force of an uninterruptible continuity, a tension at the edge of the insupportable which he speaks of with fear and not without a feeling of glory. For glory is the disaster.”

— Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of the Disaster

Edit after Frederic Edwin Church (Late Afternoon Sun Over a Stream) (Smithsonian) (Ed. Lic.: CC BY-NC 3.0)

“The world wasn’t real anymore. Everything in it was a fraudulent copy of what it should have been, and everything that happened in it shouldn’t have been happening. For a long time afterward, Ferguson lived under the spell of this illusion, sleepwalking through his days and struggling to fall asleep at night, sick of a world he had stopped believing in, doubting everything that presented itself to his eyes.”

— Paul Auster, 4 3 2 1

“The repressed signifies the preserved: hidden away in the organized tensions of the unconscious, wishes and their memories are ceaselessly struggling to find some way into gratification in the present - desire refuses annihilation.” - Christopher Bollas