the lights below look like wounded stars. wandering around civilized lives with heads cut off, dreaming of versailles. some inner garden.
GUARDED FAITH THAT THERE ARE EYES AND MINDS THAT DO NOT CRAVE INFORMATION IN FORTY WORDS OR LESS. THIS IS ME; FLOWER POTS DRIPPING DOWN WALLS, VINES CRAWLING ALONG CEILINGS AND VOICES REPEATING THE SAME CONVERSATIONS ON A LOOP. PERSONAL WEIGHT AND DESIRE IS THE INFINITE VARIABLE. Joshua Turek
