I have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them.
That double-headed monster of damnation and salvation--Time.
What are we doing here, that is the question.
Art has always been this--pure interrogation, rhetorical question less the rhetoric--whatever else it may have been obliged by social reality to appear.
Mysterious affair, electricity.
Abode where lost bodies roam each searching for its lost one.