WATCHING THE PLANETS

I’m coming for you, New York.

I preferred bad paintings: hanging above doors, on sets, or carnival backdrops, billboards, cheap prints; and unfashionable literature, church Latin, barely literate erotica, novels beloved by grannies, fairy tales, children’s books, old operas, silly songs, simple scansions.

I dreamed crusades, unimagined journeys of discovery, invisible republics, failed religious wars, moral revolutions, racial and continental drifts: I believed in every enchantment.

I invented colours for vowels! - Black A, white E, red I, blue O, green U - I regulated the shape and movement of every consonant, and, based on inner scansion, flattered myself with the belief I had invented a poetic language that, one day or another, would be understood by everyone and that I alone would translate.

— Rimbaud.

Christmas-ized my room.

The Graduate, 1967

One of my favourite endings to a film. If only because of this extended shot that shows the exhilaration in their faces fading away into uncertainty.

Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives…and to the “good life” whatever it is and wherever it happens to be. Hunter S. Thompson

Just a few books on display.