Like Chiang at the STOP sign. Like messaging the future, like,
like that etheral chamber music decorated by nine non-alphabetical figures.
Fire green as grass...
Most arid and craving saturation, satiety and reservation.
Galapogos is more like fade to black. Swirling fiercely.
Heavenly coffee. Black is black. Yeah, decantered and decantered
at the edge of the rushing Kohoutek, Jack. Remember that farce?
I discorsi sono sfuggenti. La cosa in sé, e la sua importanza per
Noi stessi siamo gli stessi sperimentatori. Arriva al punto.
I like autumn, the Susquehanna, cup of coffee & a newspaper; New York in June.
Tea with honey and rum, Lazienki Royal park in Warsaw, and that MacDonald‘s in Helsinki with black and white checkerboard floors. And Robert Johnson, Keely Smith, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, and Louis Prima. And Rick & Ziza's kitchen.