if i could rework the world the world would lay atop itself humming softly and blanketing itself with the giddy drips of history, resized, re-named, re-routed. who holds truth, originality? i am in the room and camera is above me, i can see myself on a security screen. i am typing this. i can see this being typed, as i type. who wrote the first, and then, the copy? i know this is a script. and photography? somewhere, i know the negatives exist.
1 comment:
this makes me
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