The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock A Poem by T.S. Eliot www.poetryfoundation.org A pair of ragged clawsDo I dare disturb the universe?That is not it at allI have heard the mermaids singing lonelinessmelancholy
The Waste Land A Poem by T.S. Eliot www.poetryfoundation.org HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIMEA handful of dustWho walks beside you?Has it begun to sprout?Fragments solitudesociety
Human kind cannot bear very much reality A Fragment by T.S. Eliot www.coldbacon.com Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind Cannot bear very much reality. Time past and time future What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. realitytime
The saddest designer An Essay by Chia Amisola chias.blog I am tired of the premise that creation means productivity––especially in the laborious sense...Creation has become mangled with labor in a world that demands man to monetize all of their hobbies and pursuits. In return, it seems empty, almost sad, really––to be the designer spending weekends again on the screen. To tell you what I like to do in the weekends, I like to do the sad thing...The ‘good’ people tell you to detach your life from your workspace, but this summer, I think I’ve just realized how much I adore what I have the luxury of working on everyday. In the weekend, I make. I make not because it’s the only thing I have ever known, but because it’s the most certain way forward. To see the fulfillment of the workYour life adds up makingidentitywork