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Another brilliant lecture by Nick Mount. Tears fall down my throat, in pathetically desperate gulps, as I listen.
Start at the beginning, or, start at
17:40 and then peer into my own soul, too.
20:22 - Quest of my poetry, also.
22:37 - That voice, which is also versioned in my head. The one whose will asserts itself over my life, slapping my cold fingers as they tentatively flutter up toward the sun for their small share of warmth.
26:00 - is the key to the paradox. A culture that is a plastic diorama of an older culture...
28:09 - Yes, yes; that is why I seek cathartic relief from writing.
30:00 - Seth resonates with my soul. The one birch tree. My mother's wallpaper...a past that never welcomed me, but that which I continue to figure out the password for.
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