mtroubadour

0. Distribution You slowly begin to consider your relative positions. The meaning of the alert in your email inbox begins to change. In fragments, Life begins to replace Art in your discussions, just as you begin to bring what you've learned through Art into your life: all the melodramas, wishes, and conflicts. You learn each others' addresses, voices, and the space between you, in distance, in age, and in philosophy, becomes activated. 1. Gesture We go back to basics. Let go of what you think it looks like. There, a skinny woman with long red hair walking, the wrong direction, in the waiting lounge. Your misconceptions only confuse your

defying movement, motion, creation frost without the fall this ordered sky, a mockery of patience a filter to fill all colour, all sense fled oh the sky is dead a perfect amber for us for those who wait out in the stars edgeless crystal unbroken yet insubstant pallid, a shell eleven will tell a mess of demons caught within rejected from the sky all colour, all sense fled oh the sky is dead inert, compressed sunk halfway down a buoyancy that's not much help shadowless, ungrounded purporting to purge leaching colour, confined purposelessness boring into our minds a light all good offices seek to emulate we scream