waking life, 2001
lately i've been enjoying dreaming as an escape from the real world into a kinder, and stranger reality. in general i've been drawn to the sensual abandonment of surrealism as opposed to formulating things in conceptual language. last night i dreamt about meeting and leaving in airports, and a cold winter forest with a voice recorder stuck in one of the trees. i threw a smooth marbled stone at it; it started playing joy division.
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