Storytelling: Dried Hour
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Sat down and seeing. This light in this room. Reminiscent of something unexperienced. An acquaintance in an art gallery. Same optical granularity of light. The alluded doesn't exist.
It's dark night outside the gallery. This index to a moment though exists.
I get up. I walk in my apartment and try to shake the colours I see to reminisce me to another scene, existent in any history or not.
It's cold in the dark night outside. I feel a small gust but I can't tell from where or when it churned. The last time I felt exposed like this I was a boy. I see my curly hair, my clothes just like in a photo taken and put in adhesive photo album sleeves. Obsolete storage versus card catalogues.
The parameters here are wooden and involved. The touch of rails are cool and I'm oriented by associated staircases. One cold one from high school, another from a train station that's been renovated recently.
In the wood of that handrail is a scooped space. I was told they emerged by waiting folk scratching their coins into the surface.
Now to find verisimilitude of the seen locked to times emergent and flowered.
Sat down and seeing. This light in this room. Reminiscent of something unexperienced. An acquaintance in an art gallery. Same optical granularity of light. The alluded doesn't exist.
It's dark night outside the gallery. This index to a moment though exists.
I get up. I walk in my apartment and try to shake the colours I see to reminisce me to another scene, existent in any history or not.
It's cold in the dark night outside. I feel a small gust but I can't tell from where or when it churned. The last time I felt exposed like this I was a boy. I see my curly hair, my clothes just like in a photo taken and put in adhesive photo album sleeves. Obsolete storage versus card catalogues.
The parameters here are wooden and involved. The touch of rails are cool and I'm oriented by associated staircases. One cold one from high school, another from a train station that's been renovated recently.
In the wood of that handrail is a scooped space. I was told they emerged by waiting folk scratching their coins into the surface.
Now to find verisimilitude of the seen locked to times emergent and flowered.
