/lit/ - Literature

>Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
>I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.


Wow...how lyrical.

I look at this picture and feel utter contempt for the white man. Pajeet is minding his own business, creating new ways of tingling his senses and stimulating his supple, purple nipples. The machine aids him in this endeavor. He looks at the vacuum cleaner in all earnesty, I can tell by the image that Man and Machine are truly reunited. It makes my fear of the singularity subside. One should look at this scene and feel at one with his fellow man, with one's own bodily appearance. Pajeet is comfortable in his skin. This disturbs the White Man. "You are not supposed to do this here!", he wants to cry. He does not yell, he does not let out a barbaric yelp. He grabs his phone from his pocket, makes a smug face and takes a stupid self-portrait. He then proceeds to post said portrait on the internet hoping for likes, comments and the adulation of his peers. Pajeet does not care for likes. Pajeet cares for his nipple.

>In the room the women come and go
>Talking of Michelangelo

Wow... deep Anglo poetry and rhyme... truly the most lyrical language in the world.