Sometimes mourning the loss of possession is the precondition of love itself, an initial undoing of a phantasm that makes way for something living. And in melancholy, one clings to the lost objects of the lost one, animating the one who is gone or dead. - Judith Butler. To Sense What Is Living the Other
Love and money
Love and trains
Love and clothes
Sorry I cannot help you
Not even 20 minutes
I dance
Disquietly
I'm in love
43 deads
