"Another December Without You. The Weather Has Changed For The Worst. The Sun Has Taken The Attitude,

"Another December without you. The weather has changed for the worst. The sun has taken the attitude, or in fact, submitted itself to the attitude of a bashful obedient maid. The winds blow constantly, some times roughly and other times faintly but they're cold and unmerciful. The moon has been abducted, put apart in exile. The fogs hung above like ripped postcards on a broken table; they have no story to tell. The mornings wheel about without romance and the nights are set on a purpose to wreak loneliness and sorrow. It's another December without you my darling, will you come, appear and save me, won't you?"

#nighttimeprose #mywritings #poeticprose

(Artwork: A Sense of Someone by Anne Magill.)

The Diaries of Franz Kafka are a conduit to who he really was as a person and as an artist. They chronicle his life from 1910 to 23, they offer multiplex reflections, meditation and philosophical introspection, accounts of dreams, ideas, book reviews and an honest portrayal of his feelings, emotions and thoughts. While written and given in poetic prose and lyricism, rich in vocabulary and expression, his diaries are a simply an answer to what he understood and what he did not about himself, as a writer, a person, a brother, a friend, an artist and above all as a human being with dark recesses and complexities waiting for love and affection, and light to come by.

#ReadmoreKafka.

"Two people in love, alone, isolated from the world, that's very beautiful. But what would they nourish their intimate talk with? However contemptible the world may be, they still need it to be able to talk together.'

'They could be silent.' 'Like those two, at the next table?'

Jean Marc laughed. 'Oh, no, no love can survive muteness.

-Milan Kundera, Identity-

(Artwork Alone Together by Malcolm Liepke).

From The Castaway by William Cowper.

"There are times when my longing for you overwhelms me […] so often I can think of you only with teeth clenched."

-Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice‎-

(Artwork/artist: unknown (to me)).

"It echoed loudly within him because he was hollow at the core."

-Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness-