Recommended song to dress your background with, while you read << this newsletter uses the first person, not by narcissism, but for a bespoke experience*
Like sunflowers poured in concrete becoming a totem to dance around when friends visit. All these missed solo dates, around the city or in my own head.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––Sound healing trying to achieve the ultimate recovery. The forever circling between you and me, the therapy of time means money.
|| Ending the agony. THE-AGO-NY.
How much does a day count, how many times do I breathe in, breathe out. Calm me down, reflect, on you I rely to make my sun shine. Sell me more of this time, donne-moi plus de temps. //////////// BECAUSE WE GOT NONE –––––––––––––––––––– so what? Qu’il répondra. Pas le choix.
Clicking, tingling, breaking. Switch the light on, switch it off at the same time. *La contradiction qui parlera même aux cons. The ocean we are drowning in: some survive, others get killed. Le grand art qu’est le cinéma. Réaliste au possible. Embracing it leads to greed, leaving it to flee is nothing but
signing
my
own
death
decree.
Memories building my spine, a series of pleated atrocities or wonders from the human kind.
Together or lonely,
time as BELOVED ENEMY.
Powerful,
yet tranquilising,
the final itch.
You value yours more than mine, that goes without saying. And so do I. Sharing time is like charity, a donation to the ones in need. The adornment of multiple layered and indirect violences (approximately 50 years of age). The mutual CCTV analogy, or a bright future indeed. . . . .... .. . . . . . . ..
***EVER WONDERED WHY TIME STRESSES YOU OUT?
And holding onto it too tight/too quick, such a mistaken plan. My intuition told me too many times, to stick around, and please. And “What if”s… the imaginary apocalypse of words that should have come out, of lies that shouldn’t have thrived.
Une couche après l’autre, on se la raconte – d’un con à un autre.
Rewinding the past, as if it was allowed. |||| Rebuilding it, as if I knew the mastery of it. Unique eyes see different things; and this makes me the saviour. The auto-diagnostic screaming: I can conquer, I got the time until I die. It might be an activity for the living, but how lonely. . .
TRYING TO LOCK IT UP IN MY WATER BOTTLE ––––––––––––––––––––
DENYING THE ABSORPTION OF ITS HARSH YET GENTLE EXISTENCE
––––––––––––––––––––
N.B. jumping out of the window to be faster than time – its control flying so low below.
A dark beauty of some ethereal kind, the one so difficult to live by.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++
+++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++
///////////VIBE CHECK, BECAUSE NOBODY COULD CARE LESS+ How did I not manage to make it last more than the average?!
. Unicity comes in time with music, that sexy bond. After what, it’s back to square one, or something along the lines of I hate you more than you thought I would. Pleats after pleats, the idea vanished. Here’s you and me. Grieving. Pretending to control. To lead and carry on. Terrified by our own reflections, from wrinkles to drones and digital souls. Subjected to our mutual and constant dissatisfaction – allowing more void, emptiness and lack of substance. ASHAMED
just great