Midday Hysterics Radmila Yarovaya
You know what the funniest thing is, Candice? there are still people who prophesize my flawless future Me, who has perfected to an artform holding the hands of the dying indulging the self pity of the bereaved and chronicling the sins of blessed Who knows exactly how to construct a binary between this world and the next so we don’t give in to temptation It’s me, whom they accuse of romanticism because I ought to be because I’m silk dance and flutter because of my obsessions du jour That’s me they speak of who lugs a 10kg bag laden with bloodied steel down University Ave and cries on the packed train home not because she’s sad but because that’s what she thinks a broken heart should look like
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