“And it kills me, the word sorry. As if something like music   should be forgiven. He nuzzles into the wood like a lover,   inhales, and at the first slow stroke, the crescendo      seeps through our skin like warm water, we   who have nothing but destinations, who dream of light    but descend into the mouths of tunnels, searching.” from Ocean Vuong’s “Song on the Subway”   “I am trying to check my habits of seeing, to counter them for the sake of a greater freshness. I am trying to be unfamiliar with what I’m doing.” Susan Sontag, As Consciousness … Continue reading Playing ‘Exquisite Corpse’ By Myself by M. Perle