are we instruments of fate?

fred astaire meets radiohead

last flowers

Appliances have gone berserk

I cannot keep up

Treading on people's toes

Snot-nosed little punk

And I can't face the evening straight

You can't offer me escape

Houses move and houses speak

If you take me there you'll get relief

Relief, relief, relief...

And if I'm gonna talk

I just wanna talk

Please don't interrupt

Just sit back and listen

'cause I can't face the evening straight

You can't offer me escape

Houses move and houses speak

If you take me there you'll get relief

relief, relief, relief, relief, relief...

It's too much

Too bright

Too powerful

Too much

Too bright

Too powerful

Too much

Too bright

Too powerful

Too much

Doors slam Lights black

I see tons of people looking lost and lethal

let your heart be light

If you think you belong enough

“No lists of things to be done. The day providential to itself. The hour. There is no later. This is later. All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes.”

― Cormac McCarthy, The Road

fulfillment (the embrace)

Gustave Klimt, 1905