House Of Leaves

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♾️ "Who will put an end to this great sadness?" "The hours passing"

"Hey this one's true. There was this twenty-five year old guy walking a tightrope across a deep river gorge while half way around the world another twenty-five year old guy was getting a blow job from a seventy year old woman, but get this, at the exact same moment both men were thinking the exact same thought. You know what it was?" "No clue." Tom gives his brother a wink. "Don't look down."

Perhaps one reason Navidson became so enamored with photography was the way it gave permanence to moments that were often so fleeting.

But I guess that's nothing new. We all create stories to protect ourselves.

Beautiful women are always drawn to men they think will keep them beautiful.

Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you'll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You'll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you'll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you've got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name. And then the nightmares will begin.