Dec 05, 2016
From the Magpie (lightsoftsheer neutralbetween)
“My nearly weeping when I watch Lil Buck dance is because I’m not sure this is allowed anymore.”
“My nearly weeping when I watch Lil Buck dance is because I’m not sure this is allowed anymore.”
In which the Magpie finds direction in the grids of Agnes Martin.
The paper is filled with fake villains. But tomorrow’s battle is real.
In which the Magpie happens upon two Charlottes, and the things they carried.
Novels are also mirror rooms, in a way; we read them “to see our reflections transformed, to wear another’s face.”
Wherein a question is posed: Is the Magpie a locksmith?
John Cage, the blooming of the corpse flower, and anarchic harmony.
