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“You hold a little fire up to my bare skin, which is already a small pyre, one which burns and burns but never burns down; in fact the flames are ever growing.”

…if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.

I need so little: a bottle of ink, a speck of sun on the floor – and you;

You’ll meet her, she’s very pretty, even though sometimes she’s sad for many days at a time. You’ll see, when she smiles, you’ll love her.

Charles Bukowski (1920 - 1994) How Is Your Heart? during my worst times on the park benches in the jails or living with whores I always had this certain contentment- I wouldn’t call it happiness- it was more of an inner balance that settled for whatever was occuring and it helped in the factories and when relationships went wrong with the girls. it helped through the wars and the hangovers the backalley fights the hospitals. to awaken in a cheap room in a strange city and pull up the shade- this was the craziest kind of contentment and to walk across the floor to an old dresser with a cracked mirror- see myself, ugly, grinning at it all. what matters most is how well you walk through the fire.

We are here to awaken from our illusion of separateness.

three mysterious things i love: 

Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.