Every Thing An Essay from Every So Often a Talking Dog Appears by Smiljan Radić A crumpled drawingThe tower
Every So Often a Talking Dog Appears A Book by Smiljan Radić www.artbook.com AssemblagesPlaces I will never goNo Objection to the Moon...A Guide to AbandonmentDeath at Home+3 More
No Objection to the Moon... An Essay from Every So Often a Talking Dog Appears by Smiljan Radić The deeper unconscious intentions
A Guide to Abandonment An Essay from Every So Often a Talking Dog Appears by Smiljan Radić These loose notesHours
Death at Home An Essay from Every So Often a Talking Dog Appears by Smiljan Radić To build a follySimple moments of clarity
Some Remains of My Heroes Found Scattered Across a Vacant Lot An Essay from Every So Often a Talking Dog Appears by Smiljan Radić To prove it in purityRaindrops leaving an erratic trail euphony
The Circus An Essay from Every So Often a Talking Dog Appears by Smiljan Radić EnduranceThere it is againPreparing a stage
To the Lighthouse A Novel by Virginia Woolf gutenberg.net.au All the lives to beThe alphabetGone crookedExtinguishedA thing you could ruffle with your breath+5 More solitudemelancholyloneliness
All the lives to be And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves. nature
The alphabet Yet he would not die lying down; he would find some crag of rock, and there, his eyes fixed on the storm, trying to the end to pierce the darkness, he would die standing. He would never reach R. death
Gone crooked He was coming to see himself, and everything he had ever known gone crooked a little. It was awfully strange.
A thing you could ruffle with your breath It was a thing you could ruffle with your breath; and a thing you could not dislodge with a team of horses.
A coherence in things There is a coherence in things, a stability; something, she meant, is immune to change, and shines out…in the face of the flowing, the fleeting, the spectral, like a ruby. time
All dark and spreading Beneath it is all dark, it is spreading, it is unfathomably deep; but now and again we rise to the surface and that is what you see us by.
There, with a dash on the beach How life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach. life
They would never know She would never know him. He would never know her. Human relations were all like that. melancholy