Entries by marius

Good Grief

A scrap of paper is unfolded and someone else’s words, tumble out; because no words you find yourself will ever encapsulate the love, the person, the life that’s gone.


We are all being masslit. And the extent of our craziness is that we’re half aware of this happening, that we’re being played.


You don’t go through a couple of millennia of wandering and persecution without evolving a sixth sense for trouble. The Yiddish word for it is shpilkes (needles), “a state of impatience, agitation, anxiety, or any combination thereof.”