Life is a greasy smear on a painter's palette. An oily mixture of Van Dyke brown and Alizarin Crimson. We all just scramble to scrape enough of ourselves together to make a few marks worth the canvas. The best we can hope for is a gentle narrating voice, and a bucket of turpentine to abolish some of our mistakes. The fluorescence of halogen bulbs is too bright. The bleach of images, trapped in a long, humming, shatter-fragile tube.
12:24 p.m. - 2016-10-17
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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