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Quote by Lorenzo Biagiarelli

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Lorenzo Biagiarelli

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“Regret Roulette by Stewart Stafford Evening's breath caressed in, Across a mind's cracked land, On raven's wing in twilight air, A doused flame's colder hand. Dead-end gallery of exit signs, Contrition's dog whistle song, Eye of Horus in a looking glass, Blindfolds of a corrupted throng. Feral brunch on a sheepish plate, The curate's egg fried with shell, Bellini confession, in vino veritas, Burnt offerings to show-and-tell. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”

“How can I keep my soul in me, so that it doesn’t touch your soul? How can I raise it high enough, past you, to other things? I would like to shelter it, among remote lost objects, in some dark and silent place that doesn’t resonate when your depths resound. Yet everything that touches us, me and you, takes us together like a violin’s bow, which draws one voice out of two separate strings. Upon what instrument are we two spanned? And what musician holds us in his hand? Oh sweetest song. - Love Song”