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(…) Everyone on earth spoke the same language. As people migrated from the east, they settled in the land of Shinar. People there sought to make bricks and build a city and a tower with its top in the sky, to make a name for themselves, so that they not be scattered over the world. God came down to look at the city and tower, and remarked that as one people with one language, nothing that they sought would be out of their reach. God went down and confounded their speech, so that they could not understand each other, and scattered them over the face of the earth, and they stopped building the city. (…)

(Genesis 11:1-9)





ART: Untitled – by Zdzislaw Beksinski


down the rabbit hole


chased by the familiar smell

of fear

sharp like ice

slowly burrowing into that place

where I cannot hide

not from this

not from





Art: Alex Grey




Depression is like erosion. The changes are slow, imperceptible at first. And then mountains begin to fall. Great cliffs crumble exposing the devastation, the charred inside of a tormented mind; gaping black holes and jagged edges as sharp as blades. Soft entrails calcified into rock. Depression is like erosion. It leaves nothing behind, only deep trails of tears, like empty riverbeds. And you have lost the map leading to fresh water. All you can do is sit by the dry gully and listen to the Lari cry.