dead squirrel just a bag of bones
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
Toronto, 2003.08.26
I passed The Squirrel again. Definitely just a (skin) bag of bones, now. Summertime, when the living is easy (for flies).
twenty-seven years and one million words
I passed The Squirrel again. Definitely just a (skin) bag of bones, now. Summertime, when the living is easy (for flies).
Work is about a daily search for meaning as well as daily bread; for recognition as well as cash; for astonishment rather than torpor; in short for a sort of life, rather than a monday-to-friday sort of dying.
— Studs Terkel