Sometimes repetition works and sometimes form, but sometimes too it seems that the sounds are infinite and can travel uninterrupted, without entropy. During those moments I feel like I need to put myself through a shredder. The world is full of many sentences. Mine is to be run whenever I’m close, to feel the crest of something monumental on my fingertips before programming a cliff and (syntax failing) clouds and substanceless strands and a crash. Then I want to go minigolfing. There’s a great course near here that has a pirate theme and running water and a tunnel. Sometimes the greens are wet. Sometimes the ball ends up in the water. Sometimes I reach par. What was I talking about?
Photo By: Ciro Cattuto