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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020
Submitted to Contest #51
Arthur “I am like the truth,” he said to himself, knowing there was nobody around to hear, “ugly and unwanted.” As his feet shuffled over the cobblestones, which were wet and slippery from the rain, Arthur once again had the idea it was through these kinds of muffled conversations people had with themselves, in the early hours of the morning and under the influence of alcohol, that the art of philosophy must have been born. On the one hand, he thought it difficult to believe that the key to heaven, the human soul and Plato’s world of ...
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