low

I like to imagine you as this scrawny blonde irritated kid with dirty knucles and his shoulders sticking out through the skin in that boyish yet androgenous manner. Smoking cardboard rolled cigarettes and biting his nails until the skin comes off in shreds that he would chew on for hours and finally spit out furiously. A restless kid tempered only by the numerous things that bore him, growing up in a small town where trees outnumber people and rooms spin out of control.

Cut-up

There`s something pleasurable about losing your mind. You hear it tick from a very deep sleep. Friday night i wake up at 2 am without speaking to a soul. And there`s so much silence here it`s absolutely vital to have these strict routines. It`s not like i sit here philosophizing ever since my childhood. How can i protect myself against strenght and joy ? I like it when it rains in summer and i don`tknow where i am. For a person as disorganised as i am i am never lonely. That peaceful, incenssant, long and incredibly wet anxiety. The demons don`t like ticking clocks when it rains. It`s just this thing about silence. Suddenly i feel infected because i started interfering with them. I`ve always had a weakness for not talking. I decided that this is where i`d sit. Watch the snowstorms and the sea. But most of all...may i make it through.