Takes a fold over from one chapter to the next and the count of pages on and on until the end is nigh. With it comes the realisation of an end of a slow burning joke.
Disparate chunk of the brain flies out the window and lands on the stoop, spat on by birds and wet on by the feral cats out back. Scratching the sand with a hint of episodic flashes into black, nothing gels to form a vision of that which precedes, the first and introduction, fade to white. Lore passes time well enough as the tale of The Big Wet is a spring of licorice on the creation and expulsion of a world. Feels like rain is coming on.
Convention and style jumps between reality and the perception. Dripping with the fantastic visage of shadows working in bright lights and skinning shades. Marketing takes a hint of a blitz of the underground and there's another eye mask flying out from the open hand. Catch the footage on the late news. Fuzzy artifacts and all with a clarity of legends being born.
Three streams in the falling and it's a crack twist in non-linear aims of timelines. Each point runs parellel in different modes and moods, flavour the haphazard and find a way to dovetail, neat and chunky at the seams.
Soon Van - Tuesday, June 12, 2007 - 23:42
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