There's no two Alice. They're all different features from the same. That's why you always get hypnotized by Alice - whoever you are at any given moment, there's Alice. Her eyes always looking at you the way you fear and love the most. Her voice always the voice you need. Her distance so close, her breath on your ear, her wish so warm, her want so cold.

Whoever you're looking for, she's Alice.

"There's only Alice."

"Hello, old friend."

I heard a joke once

The way he looks at things now, it's like he doesn't remember what they are. It's like this world, this real world, to him, it's like walking through mist, and people are just shadows. Shadows in the fog.

A throne made of broken words

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah


Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah


You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did—well, really—what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah


I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Sleep

The low frequency vibrating doom, the sludge of demons, that all-filling stench of pleasure. The sweet sound of sour-sweated strings swatted against the sinister body. High minds, low notes. Drive fast, play slow. And follow the smoke towards the riff-filled land.

I’ve been pretending my whole life. Pretending I don’t mind, pretending I belong. My life’s built on it. And it’s a good life. It’s a life I’ve always wanted. But then I came here and I get a glimpse for a second of a life in which I don’t have to pretend. A life in which I can be truly alive. How can I go back to pretending when I know what this feels like?

- I... I can make that feeling go away, if you like.

- Why would I want that? The pain... Their loss... It's all I have left of them. You think the grief will make you smaller inside, like your heart will colapse in on itself, but it doesn't. I feel spaces opening up inside of me, like a building with rooms I've never explored.

(...)

- Is there something wrong with these thoughts I'm having?

And yet, one does manage to lose all of them.

Well, Clarice, have the lambs stopped screaming?

The reptile pushes itself out into space
Leaving behind the human race

Reality seems to be slipping

Soma

‘Look,’ he commanded.

‘But it’s horrible,’ said Lenina shrinking back from the window. She was appalled by the rushing emptiness of the night, by the black foam-flecked water heaving beneath them, by the pale face of the moon, so haggard and distracted among the hastening clouds. ‘Let’s turn on the radio. Quick!’ She reached for the dialling knob on the dashboard and turned it at random.

‘… skies are blue inside of you,’ sang sixteen tremoloing falsettos, ‘the weather’s always …’

Then a hiccough and silence. Bernard had switched off the current.

‘I want to look at the sea in peace,’ he said. ‘One can’t even look with that beastly noise going on.’

‘But it’s lovely. And I don’t want to look.’

‘But I do,’ he insisted. ‘It makes me feel as though …’ he hesitated, searching for words with which to express himself, ‘as though I were more me, if you see what I mean. More on my own, not so completely a part of something else. Not just a cell in the social body. Doesn’t it make you feel like that, Lenina?’

But Lenina was crying. ‘It’s horrible, it’s horrible,’ she kept repeating.

I wish I learnt from pain.