Despair

Chew through this.

The Entire City (1935) by Max Ernst

Today I’m a depressed ghost who works at a factory, screwing a little nut onto a little bolt, over and over again, until my hands ache. The machinery smells like burnt rubber, black oil, soot, and sadness. My hands want to dance over a piano. My hands want to lie in the sun, palms up. My hands want to swim through the …