I went over to see Marina two or three or four times a week. I knew as long as I could see the girl I would be all rightโฆ. Soon after, I got a letter from Fay. She and the child were living in a hippie commune in New Mexico. It was a nice place, she said. Marina would be able to breathe there. She enclosed a little drawing the girl had made for me.
Charles Bukowskibut isn't there always one good thing to look back on? think of how many cups of coffee we drank together.
Charles Bukowskimorning night and noon the traffic moves through and the murder and treachery of friends and lovers and all the people move through you. pain is the joy of knowing the unkindest truth that arrives without warning. life is being alone death is being alone. even the fools weep morning night and noon.
Charles Bukowski