—— Selected Poems, Vladimir Nabokov

human imperfection.

for you who is gone nocturnally, diurnally reconnoitering over the contemporary crusade inadvertently deserting one who really cares “I have to do this, I have to find out who I really was” but have you ever contemplated once the past hasn’t ever mattered to both of us, and our tangling thread of fate yet you persist on your intransigent, fading plea

evanescent love kindling desire all of them arise whilst you merely sent a text i ponder the high standard I use to mend structure by structure forming a hierarchy has ever been that sweatless for you; extemporaneously unwillingly yet all deserving toppled it down with a single text yes, a single text

—— by you, yes you.

Slavoj Žižek on his book, Event in Transit.