Robin:
"There was stuff. Fleeting, impermanent, unconnected stuff. ‘Cerulean’ bumped up against ‘giddiness’ floated around ‘the smell of wet cement’ rubbed shoulders with ‘grass.’ There was no straightforward linear time as we think about it. No discrete beings-who-are-made-up-of-stuff. Just... stuff.”
Saturday, March 21, 2009
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12/30/23
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