stanley kubrick and the birth of opera

the kettle whinnies like the horse at the back of the race.

her kettle. beige kettle. favourite kettle.

i can’t stand it.

but seeing her smile electrifies my soul.

like an espresso martini.

if i drank those.

i run around her like an obedient dog.

sit, stay. sit, stay.

i am an old dog and there is only one cure for old dogs.

she keeps me alive.

suffering endlessly.

just to smile and gracelessly tear into the meat of a blackberry.

our love was unfounded when she created dostoevsky out of a tight weave.

pessoa knew her frequently.

i ask for permission to look her in the eyes.

she refuses.

hung like a millais.

perfect suffering.

let us live like this forever.