On Dante and Zephyr and Baudelaire’s Eternal Clock of the Chinese


Whenever the gay recluse leaves home, we find our dreams inhabited by those we have left behind. Several times in the passing nights we feel the slight pressure of paws walking across the terrain of the bed, pausing now and again to balance on our legs, as if to ask us if anything we have witnessed could ever compare to the vast and timeless universe contained in the depths of their emerald eyes.

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