Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Friday, March 21, 2008

no title



looking back just a few years before my own birth is like looking back into an alien world. the music, the values, the motion of bodies through space, all locked in a mystery that might as well be a foreign language.

i don't like the books about the factory, i like the period films. how can anyone talk about a movement that was all about a moment of bliss among the ruins?

the flower in the mouth of Baudalaire's corpse; the drug joy in the broken bodies.

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