Lunes, Marso 12, 2012


Power is an inferiority complex wound up like a clock by an inability to relax. At the height of my power I have to be taken to a power source in the woods where I am recharged. This power source is not actually in the woods: it's in my mother. It hums quietly in her heart like an atomic plant and the place to plug in is her eyes.

by Andrei Codrescu

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