"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing."
- Macbeth Act 5, scene 5, 19-28
Jan 31 -
This space is Steffi Sales' way of immortalizing her thoughts in the interwebs. And perhaps, her attempt to create new narratives. As you will probably notice, she loves to write, take photographs, immerse herself in literature, and listen to particularly obscure forms of music. In five years, she hopes to have learned how to cook, make her own music, and transform her thoughts into short documentary films. "La vraie vie est aileurs." --Arthur Rimbaud ("The true life is absent.") Archive Twitter
