Herakles Character Analysis

Up against another human being one’s own procedures take on definition.

“How does distance look?” is a simple direct question. It extends from a spaceless
within to the edge
of what can be loved.

What if you took a fifteen-minute exposure of a man in jail, let’s say the lava
has just reached his window?
he asked. I think you are confusing subject and object, she said.
Very likely, said Geryon.

All your designs are about captivity, it depresses me.

Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.

How do you think it feels
growing up in a house full
of empty fruit bowls? His voice was high.
His eyes met hers and they began
to laugh. They laughed
until tears ran down. Then they sat quiet. Drifted back
to opposite walls.

Geryon’s life entered a numb time, caught between the tongue and the taste.

Yellow? said Geryon and he was thinking Yellow! Yellow! Even in dreams
he doesn’t know me at all! Yellow!

I’m a master of monsters aren’t I?

What Geryon was thinking Herakles never asked. In the space between them
developed a dangerous cloud.

A volcano is not a mountain like others. Raising a camera to one’s face has effects
no one can calculate in advance.

There is one thing I want from you.
Tell me.
Want to see you use those wings.

This is for Ancash, he calls to the earth diminishing below. This is a memory of our
beauty.

We are amazing beings,
Geryon is thinking. We are neighbors of fire.
And now time is rushing towards them
where they stand side by side with arms touching, immortality on their faces, night at their back.

Up against another human being one’s own procedures take on definition.

“How does distance look?” is a simple direct question. It extends from a spaceless
within to the edge
of what can be loved.

What if you took a fifteen-minute exposure of a man in jail, let’s say the lava
has just reached his window?
he asked. I think you are confusing subject and object, she said.
Very likely, said Geryon.

All your designs are about captivity, it depresses me.

Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.

How do you think it feels
growing up in a house full
of empty fruit bowls? His voice was high.
His eyes met hers and they began
to laugh. They laughed
until tears ran down. Then they sat quiet. Drifted back
to opposite walls.

Geryon’s life entered a numb time, caught between the tongue and the taste.

Yellow? said Geryon and he was thinking Yellow! Yellow! Even in dreams
he doesn’t know me at all! Yellow!

I’m a master of monsters aren’t I?

What Geryon was thinking Herakles never asked. In the space between them
developed a dangerous cloud.

A volcano is not a mountain like others. Raising a camera to one’s face has effects
no one can calculate in advance.

There is one thing I want from you.
Tell me.
Want to see you use those wings.

This is for Ancash, he calls to the earth diminishing below. This is a memory of our
beauty.

We are amazing beings,
Geryon is thinking. We are neighbors of fire.
And now time is rushing towards them
where they stand side by side with arms touching, immortality on their faces, night at their back.