[“We no longer much like the people who come and criticize our dreams.” – Michel Houellebecq]
They judged my dreams, stared down their noses at them, as if my dreams couldn’t possibly have any artistic merit, me from a poor mill town and graduate of a for-profit college that later folded with a huge sigh of relief.
But after much travail, I finally arranged to have my own opening: twenty-five carefully curated dreams, smoothed of excess, shined with delicate passion, colored by the wheel of sleep.
The critics looked, smiled at me. Their smiles hurt most.
> See “books Terence Kuch” on Google or Amazon for more writing from a naturally curly mind. <<
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