Tag Archives: Michel Foucault

(e) sirens, (f) fabulous, (g) stray dogs

This book first arose out of a passage in Borges, out of the laughter that shattered, as I read the passage, all the familiar landmarks of my thought – our thought, the thought that bears the stamp of our age … Continue reading

Posted in animals, literature, pitted, wtf | Tagged , , | Leave a comment