My own beauty reflected The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said: "I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected." Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist Narcissus and Goldmund beautyego
A Guide to Abandonment An Essay from Every So Often a Talking Dog Appears by Smiljan Radić These loose notesHours
These loose notes These loose notes are one possible description of our city. A city that, as in Constantin Cavafy's poem The City, is and always will be the same, in the same city again. citiesidentityi