Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Style

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

lol

as in

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak