Im haunted a little this evening by feelings that have no vocabulary and events that should be explained in dimensions of lint rather than words. Ive been examining half-scraps of my childhood. They are pieces of distant life that have no form or meaning. They are things that just happened like lint.
Richard BrautiganAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer, Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: January 30, 1935
- Died: October 14, 1984
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You and me?” I let out a stunned bark of laughter. “There is no you and me.”
“That’s what you think,” Chaz says, tugging on his coat. “And I’ll be damned if I’m going to wait around until you figure out that isn’t true.”
“Fine,” I say “I’m not asking you to, am I?”
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