Books are for people who wish they were somewhere else.
I asked him for his photo. He stared at me for a few seconds, then felt my forehead with the back of his hand, then stared at me for a few more seconds, then said: “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I wish I could do whatever I liked behind the curtain of “madness”. Then: I’d arrange flowers, all day long, I’d paint; pain, love and tenderness, I would laugh as much as I feel like at the stupidity of others, and they would all say: “Poor thing, she’s crazy!” (Above all I would laugh at my own stupidity.) I would build my world which while I lived, would be in agreement with all the worlds. The day, or the hour, or the minute that I lived would be mine and everyone else’s - my madness would not be an escape from “reality”.
I keep seeing posts that say help Detroiter’s pay water bills (and that’s cool, don’t get me wrong), but where are the posts that say demand the water company cuts the shit back on?
Are people missing the stories of the people who have paid and still have no water?
Y’all don’t really think this is about not paying the bill, right?