March 28, 2011
1 note
“ What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown uncovered togeter. They are strewn there pell-mell. One of your ribs leans against my skull. A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis . (Against my broken ribs your breast like a flower.) The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel. It is strange that this imagen of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium , showld bestow a sense of peace .Yes it does. With you i can imagine a place where to be phoshphate of calcium is enough. ”
*J.B. (via lovelacce)
(Source: derrumbe)











