Tag Archives: My Life as an Echo

MY HISTORY, FOR THOSE WHO HUNT FACTS (WHICH I WILLINGLY PROVIDE)

I know a lot of people might like to know about Gemma, about myself, about my psyche. That is the purpose of this Big Long Open Gash, isn’t it. Here are my veins for pillaging. Drink my blood. I am your prey, and you are mine. Here are somethings (but not all things) that my [...]
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HAUNTED BY AMERICAN DREAMS

And so we arrive at the gates of these days held aloft by want and wanton life, slacked by waves on this broadening shore. And so we arrive at these gates. And I am about to depart from their meadows. This meadow of rotten apples that I have so lovingly poured over. The rain started today. I am taking on the [...]
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AN ALMOST RECKLESS FAITH

What do I say? In all circumstances, what words do I use with all these people on Earth? I used to think it mattered a lot, to choose the right ones, but I see now that words are bandages wrapped sometimes hastily like Egyptian cloth around the Mother, the source, the essence of what is there. The [...]
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WORDS, WHO NEEDS THEM

And so now I present you with Henry’s discussion of writing and acting. I find it quite interesting, and I hope you will too. All the life’s a stage, and I am writing its frenetic scenes, I have realised. Line after line, word after word. I often just wish I could say: _____________ and you [...]
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