dimanche 20 octobre 2013
...you will rise to the sound of a 1970's rotoclock, then find that you have nothing to do. You will hope for a mercury perfusion, and the metal to reunite the distant sides of you. Now the fuzz has waned and you see the future clearly, toes on the carpet, the sheets wrapped around your waist.
Get Up! Split the chains. Joy, good joy.
Then let the sadness shine through. If it's grey outside the window, I am sorry for you. If it isn't, you're probably already in the street, the beach, a green field, singing to yourself under your breath that you know it all.