Infinite Jest (and millions more)

In craftsman-like precision, the professionally sculpted syntax arranges into a pristine queue Scaling the page's length and width, consciously abiding by marginal law, thus replicating the history of the visually exhausted-- yet eagerly beckoning-- literature, stained a pale yellow and embellished with sporadically spaced diagonals which have long lay at rest and present themselves to me now in fossilized form.




Words flourish into lines creating the intellectual divinity that is your piece. Willing me to rest my eyes tenderly upon the ink-stained trail of each infantile symbol; an archaeic means of human connection; a dangerously beautiful system of colliding algorithms and resources molded to express the complexion of the self-righteous-- the homosepian.

When the mind engages on a highly critical level, the collective receives an invitation to navigate to the core. Such an enchanting retreat, that it has the ability to tap into the hauntingly intricate thought catelog that is your mind.

It is in these moments of oneness that I can uncover the true purpose hidden within the text.

It is here that I feel the sufferings, the desires, the loss of identity, the awakening of the soul.

It is now that I can begin to learn. And I will, because I welcomed him in.


I like when literature makes me think. It is in these times of thought that she grows into her own and finds me.


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