the wig furiates. it twists it’s hage shaple. it so much wants to wring the hectre shates; an incense burnt beyond rational construction.
abstract aggregates and fools, it rathes to gnag. the enraged stoke peels the sensitivities in whole rips and burns from the face of acceptance.
it wants obliteration, against the fit nots. no times out to its game, it flips until it’s over.
ganas
- gan
- i am an interpreter and indication of the gatherings in my life. my collection of influences, and experiences, and wanderings, and figurings. i am a current of reflection yearning for connection. i am compelled and commanded to do so by my own accordion. playing it's off-tunes and rhythmic swoons i am dancing to the passing moment. all at once and individually rapt. i am continual appreciation of the process and movement of life. i am most interested in the details of culture and life-byproducts, the wear and tear of existence. human-fantastic is a great show. i am highly enamoured with seeing through things or of hidden sources of movement or sound. knowing you know is where i'm most ticklish.
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