Thursday, 6 June 2013

Sweet Death Racket

          The city is loveliest when the sweet death racket begins. Her own life lived in defiance of nature, her electricity, her Frigidaires, her soundproof walls, the glint of lacquered nails, the plumes that wave across the corrugated sky. Here in the coffin depths grow the everlasting flowers sent by telegraph.

Henry Miller

Elliot Erwitt
reblogged from Visions

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