A review by bluermi
The Private Journals of Edvard Munch: We Are Flames Which Pour Out of the Earth by Edvard Munch

1.0

Shoud've stayed private. Or maybe it was a bad translation.

1 star for this one:

16
I am like
the sleepwalker who
walks on the ridge
of a roof—
sure-footed and calm
he walks without seeing
without hearing—
Oh someone shouts at
him—louder and
louder—he wakes up
and he falls off
of the roof—down
from his dreams—
Don’t do that
to me—that
—I walk
calmly in my dreams
which are my life—
—only like that
can I live