Silence Is Death, Nothing Is Death

I love this piece, a lot. By Vasily Kafanov

Whoever said that I was brave enough to face all this?

The night sound of sand on sand, the rustling of ancient books, the call to prayer in the crumbling city. All left behind, and all coming back, and all already here.The sunken city will howl through our dreams again: The City of the Old Ones, The Pillars, The Forgotten.

I am fish, looking for what he’s swimming in.

By now the water must’ve grown tired of me, who swims so lost, so aimlessly,

lmao

Writing tips I know but never use #2

Art is hard, writing especially. You shouldn’t wait for inspiration to hit you, you should sharpen your blades, ready the guns, and hunt the damn thing down. Pin it to the page, and hold it there until it stops struggling. Go outside looking for it, talk to someone random on the bus about their coat, call a friend and ask them what the weirdest experience of their life involving the colour blue is. Hunt inspiration, do not let it hunt you.

​Write. Write every day until your head is empty and your demons are quiet.

Strangely enough, the unloved heart knows Love better than the loved heart.

me every single day of my life

me when I see the psychiatrist