First: a disclaimer and a signal, the beacon beckoning. I don’t love much.
The unhappier I become, the more I despise. This is what it comes down to. Unfortunately and deeply Romantic in this sense, the projection of my colour onto these four walls, the streets and the skies (correction: sky) is an inevitability, a haunting and a dare I suppose. It is not a complicated procedure.
I like to maintain this mute façade, this sense of WHO and WHEN and the OTHER. I know, I promise you that I know. This is unwieldy and unsatisfactory, unreadable and uninteresting, unprecedentable and unregulatoriable, unqualmilaficient and unprescientiableness defined.
I say, as I’ve said before, very little with a lot.
But I like routine, I think it is good.