dollyshot
almost diary


Tuesday, February 22, 2005  

He was feeling everything twice. When he touched his fingers to his face he felt the impact of his fingers twice.

I want to write about the lives of ancient times in a language entirely inappropriate to them. I want to apply metaphors that create temporal dislocations. I long to create vast anachronisms!

But real life - which is really a diffusive form of death - surrounds me. Time is not mine, noone's.

posted by Scout | 4:47 PM
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