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A Sense of Something Lost

“Don’t I know you from somewhere, or this fucking place is boiling?” (A Sense of Something Lost by Terry McDonagh)

I love Terry McDonagh, primarily, because I have no idea what he’s trying to say through his eccentric poems. Reading The World without Stone, A Song for Joanna, or No Places in The Marshes is like walking in the desert, blindfolded.

That’s why I love to read his poems everytime I feel stuck. Eerily, his poems left me with this wacky sensation that runs through me as I flip each pages: a sense of… something lost.

When your whole life is so well-organized, and you live by the rules each day, you need some chaos to maintain your sanity. That’s why I love Terry. That’s why I love you.

I love the way you make me feel lost.
Your chaotic life is like a stain over my spotless canvas.

IMG. http://irishliteraryrevival.com/writers/terrymcdonagh/aworldwithoutstone.jpg

hanny

If you made it this, far, please say 'hi'. It really means a lot to me! :)

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Hanny illustrator
Hi. I'm HANNY
I am an Indonesian writer/artist/illustrator and stationery web shop owner (Cafe Analog) based in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. I love facilitating writing/creative workshops and retreats, especially when they are tied to self-exploration and self-expression. In Indonesian, 'beradadisini' means being here. So, here I am, documenting life—one word at a time.

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