I tried to appear more normal than I was, so that those around me wouldn’t think I was less normal than I was, and that suited them just fine.
Elizaveta MikhailichenkoStichwörter: fiction-writing
The brain of the modern human is no longer capable of understanding reality directly. It used to be that a person lived, looked toward the horizon, howled at the moon, and formed his conceptions, however biased, based on his own experiences and observations. There used to be this thing called independent learning. Not anymore. They crystallize our brains like ice from water. Imagine how slowly, starting in childhood, your brain is crystallized for you, forming your conception of reality. We could even determine a unit of currency for all humanity, ‘the value of one concept.’ Everyone would have their own change purse, so to speak, and the coins in it, though of various values, quantities, styles, and metals, would all be from a single mint.
Elizaveta MikhailichenkoStichwörter: fiction-writing
To me, the café was a morning casino. A casino where I played for my life, staked the dawning day and, like any inveterate gambler, was unfazed by the fact that I lost my slice of sunlight more often than I won it.
Elizaveta MikhailichenkoStichwörter: fiction-novel
I drank the dregs of the wine to what remained of my health.
I gave the last of my fervor for what remained of my hope.
I cannot say for sure that this country is cursed,
Honey flows with the milk, and the milk might curdle.
Eli7
Stichwörter: fiction-novel poetry-quotes
Though a modern woman’s computer is more intimate than her bed...
Elizaveta MikhailichenkoStichwörter: love woman fiction-novel
The first teacher, the first kiss, and the first crime. I’ve always been hindered by my dislike for repetition. The first time you do anything, it’s creative, but from then on it’s just work.
Elizaveta MikhailichenkoStichwörter: fiction-novel
I don’t even like cemeteries. Morgues, either, nor anatomy museums, undertakers’ parlors, funeral chapels, or any of those places where the world of the living sparks against the world of the dead, and a spot of burned out time fades, diffuse in an ocean of timelessness.
Elizaveta MikhailichenkoStichwörter: death fiction-novel
I imagined/felt their palms sweating, their sweat mingling, mutually fertilized, and dripping to the ground, where it gave birth to a scolopendra, the forked ends of its tail bedecked with the sparkle of drying tears. Their sweat would mingle again at night; the sweat from their bellies would run down into their loins, fill their belly buttons, and glimmer in the moonlight like the tears drying on the scolopendra's tail.
Elizaveta MikhailichenkoStichwörter: love passion lovers fiction-novel
The impatient man of courage is like a premature ejaculation.
Elizaveta MikhailichenkoStichwörter: fiction-novel
With those that you love, it’s more or less understood—there’s often a love-hate duality with no in-between. It’s more complicated with those you are simply ready to love.
Elizaveta MikhailichenkoStichwörter: love fiction-novel
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