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