Tuesday, June 28, 2011


I have this very special photograph of Arthur Rimbaud, poet maldito, who wrote all of his genius work before he was 21. The photograph is special because obviously it is a black and white photograph but someone hand-tinted his jacket peacock blue. Arthur Rimbaud would never wear a peacock blue jacket! If you look at his writing, you know that right away. He writes of green zinc coffin, buttocks bearing Clara Venus, and the dance of the hanged man - not peacock jackets. And this is the great thing about writing - you know so much about the author through his works. And this is the terrible thing about dying - you end up wearing clothes that you normally would never wear.

1 comment:

t of Cha said...
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