About me:
Moonlight phase in air stratification. Appearance, broken, broken. Blue black fog sat on my chest. - Yes, I did.
Allowing the the time to take over. Building time. Time's resurrection. The universal history of common truths in a few books of handwriting. Verbs' avoidance, and persons confusion.
To read Conrad again and about Conrad. Zulawski studied his lifetime changing planes. Where does the plane land?
Arrival. The mission is already finished and I am still looking with the same penetrating thoughts. There's so much to lose in Arrival. He's protected by guards of initiation rituals. My past and his memory. I'm exchanging what I thought was true into what is tempting. Explaining myself where we land, crash, survive and revamp is only to hide pieces of broken glass. Clear, broken and sharp glass. Like glasses at J house, we drank black tea in thin glasses surrounded with dead books, papers of importance and on the wooden tables spilt tea stains; we drank it all. I am focusing on switching the languages the way I won't lose secrets in translation. Hiding the maps of their bodies. I called it an eye, as it opened and looked at me with its broken past. Never seen his eyes, never asked to see them, never became now. Building time that is a dimension, not just a place. Bringing out sequences without mechanical soul technology. And every song I heard was true. Every word could make the sentence in your comment. [...] may god have mercy [...]. Just zeros and ones.
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