All Art Is a Disappearing Act

Otherwise, you may as well be selling Hitler’s piss

“All the stories I would like to write persecute me. When I am in my chamber, it seems as if they are all around me, like little devils, and while one tugs at my ear, another tweaks my nose, and each says to me, ‘Sir, write me, I am beautiful.”

― Umberto Eco, The Island of the Day Before