instead, all you have to fear is the inevitable decline in people's belief in you, like a slow trickling away of water from a saltmarsh as the sea goes out, until, one day, you will be just a small fragment of terracotta in a corner display case in an almost unvisited museum, and a small child will stand in front of you, picking its nose, and saying mummy, why is that bit of broken pot there, and why is that stupid looking face that is all broken and almost vanished drawn on it? and this will be the end of all your glory
(
vladimir, Tue 21 Jun 2011, 12:08,
archived)
