The Robert Frost two paths diverged in the woods poem seems a lot more like obstinacy than poetry if you imagine him already lost as hell and doubling down.
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The Robert Frost two paths diverged in the woods poem seems a lot more like obstinacy than poetry if you imagine him already lost as hell and doubling down.
“… and I, I chose the one less travelled by, because fuck it, that’s why. Ball up top, let’s go.”
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The Robert Frost two paths diverged in the woods poem seems a lot more like obstinacy than poetry if you imagine him already lost as hell and doubling down.
“… and I, I chose the one less travelled by, because fuck it, that’s why. Ball up top, let’s go.”
Two paths diverged in the woods, and I, I rejected these false dichotomies, threw my bike over a rusty fence and found my way to beauty you will never see.
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