Currently reading : Time for low voices, low light, sweet words and thick dreams
Fighting freezin cold of air-conditionning, heavy heat of the street, rushing to get there, but body moving slowly, what is it I miss? Why not home, safe, warm, cold, or somewhere between the two? Tiny little dancers in my head, rather attractive, some on point, some engaged in some kind of Filipino folk extravaganza, others do a slow striptease to “Don’t Sweat The Technique.” Time for low voices, low light, sweet words and thick dreams. I have too many clothes on, ache on the right side of my neck, behind the ear, maybe a lentil soup or hot sake, but no cameras today.
Nothing Succeeds Like Excess
Completely Attached To Delusion
Eating The Sky
Berlin Tchernobyl (en français…)