“So which is the lie? Hard or soft? Silence or time? The lie is that it’s one or the other. A still, floating bee is moving faster than it can think. From overhead the sweetness drives it crazy. The board will nod, and you will go, and black eyes of skin can cross blind into a cloud blotched sky. Punctured light emptying behind sharp stone that is forever. That is forever. Step into the skin and disappear. Hello.”
—David Foster Wallace, Forever Overhead (via symptoms)
