The more I write, the more discouraged I feel. I can’t find my way around this irony, and neither can I accept this paradoxical way of thinking. Also, I fell in love with Joy Division’s music ten years too late. If you say there’s never a “too late” for anything, then you are wrong. People say it to encourage you.
If it’s too late – you do it anyway. This is all that counts. Who cares about the time anyway? In reality, they prefer “too late” to ‘”too early,” didn’t you know?
I find it fascinating how dark this room gets when it’s late in the afternoon. And the crow is still sitting on the antenna, watching the city. I wonder how much information is too much information.
The crow is gone.
I wouldn’t say I like Joy Division’s music that much, to be honest. The only interesting thing they created is the living soul that dwells in their music. And I don’t mean Ian Curtis because he was a coward. But at least there is always something heroic about admitting it poetically and tactfully, although a little part of me thinks that it’s just an excuse.
Self-expression without having to talk, self-fulfillment without having to talk.
Just silence in a rope.