Wednesday, May 2, 2012 Sunday, April 22, 2012
Love is what you call a phantom pain. The poets write of it, our great art represents it, it inspires our musicians, but it does not really exist. […] Like an ulcer you think you have but the surgeon opens you up and finds nothing there. It is a chemical reaction, Keesy. Hormones. People die for it, but no one has ever proven it exists. Margaux Fragoso; “Tiger, Tiger”