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A Self-portrait
“A poet is a bearer of truth, someone who feels the world with extraordinary depth, who distills sensory impressions into an anguish capable of shaking the heart.
As for me, I’m nothing more than a liar.”
At half past five on a December evening, by the roadside beside a field, the winter sun stains the sky a deep violet. Chanon cannot see the face of the person he is speaking to, yet he knows that everything is about to begin—or perhaps come to an end.
A relationship between two men and one woman is falling into crisis. A quiet friendship is sharpened by sarcasm, while memories, scrambled like a Rubik’s Cube, have thrown their lives into turmoil for more than a decade. “
A Self-portrait
“A poet is a bearer of truth, someone who feels the world with extraordinary depth, who distills sensory impressions into an anguish capable of shaking the heart.
As for me, I’m nothing more than a liar.”
At half past five on a December evening, by the roadside beside a field, the winter sun stains the sky a deep violet. Chanon cannot see the face of the person he is speaking to, yet he knows that everything is about to begin—or perhaps come to an end.
A relationship between two men and one woman is falling into crisis. A quiet friendship is sharpened by sarcasm, while memories, scrambled like a Rubik’s Cube, have thrown their lives into turmoil for more than a decade. “
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