Travel log. A room rock pastiche

disposable dailies
designed for everyday life but mostly out of range between various small fires nightly on WEB a dog chews a skirt or a scooter carries a bucket of water as a chariot carries a peacock to a jolly good show.

room service
what happens if the pen gets too reflected on the notes I produce/consume/produce every day, if it stops, it is actually trying to reach out, the lineage of pens in an order, notes that redraw heritage, that could bring bright glorious plasma twins of LIKES and SHARES. „Fill the silence in the center of words“.

in homage
to Balkonien (translates: staycation), as the Germans call it, among other words, the preference to stay home and thinking about leaving, pushed into the another of other, Malmö, on the way to Odense, on a cruiser spacing off – between Corralejo and Arrecife – dazing off in the sun, signing off of facebook, sitting in a small café behind an old forlorn piece of wall, cement crackling down the brickwork, for example in Talinn. one pen computer waiting. An homage to the lightning house in the BACKGROUND and to the line that stops temporarily over Martin’s HEAD in the silliness of pastel and a manifest of the background.

two breathe clouds across the white tiles to not another being scared by birds they stand on wavy air push on neighboring particles to make tunes I permanently bound into the stuff of naked walls, slaked lime past and coarse marble on the floor,
spread sheets that surround him like snakes, snaring him, he is the one resisting them and residing here. Summon a whisper so they get tamed and at half throttle approaching even closer like small children seeking to hear about home made stories.

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