Slow decay in RVA
We are impossible living creatures, impossibly alive, of whom neither the time of the body, nor the investment by space are any more to be retained than the shades of evening or the beloved face, and painting quite simply a destiny, which is to paint where there is nothing to paint, nothing to paint with, and without knowing how to paint, and without wanting to paint, and all this in such a way that something comes of it.
Albert, you sexy beast!
If I could drag myself down to the sea! I’d make me a pillow of sand for my head and the tide would come.
For a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life.
But there was always some obstacle in the way.
Something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business,
Then life would begin.
At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
"You need to start again from the beginning, they tell you,
while you would know only how to start from the middle, how to change the old,
make it better, nicer, more loved.
But when the dead are no longer alive
nobody knows how to start from either the end or the beginning.
You know, you know very well, how life is turned into scraps of rubbish,
but not how these scraps of rubbish can be turned into life.”
Black Thought is one of the most unappreciated artist out there. The way he rhymes, that smooth delivery…his WORDS are like none other. The same can be said about The Roots in general. And please don’t even get me started on the insanely talented Questlove.
2 weeks ago359 plays
Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.