Another yellow blender. An ode to industry.

She seems indifferent that her thoughts are building the future.

A reflection fractures the skyscraper into a cubist abstraction.

Lighter to letter,
We litter the lot; later
The ash blows away.

Which one of these worlds would you rather inhabit? The one on the foreign side of the reflection seems like a lot more fun.

There seems to be a kind of nagging joke that one’s on the outside of when it comes to Sundays. This is nothing new to most people. The great frustration with Sunday is that it can frequently be so beautiful and at the same time so full of a sense of dread. The golden hours of dusk and dawn seem to radiate more on a Sunday than they would any other day and yet, one finds it hard to truly enjoy them. The reasons for this are more commonly found in the coming work/school week. The hours get so heavy. And when night comes it seems more intrusive than ever, forming a blanket around the city and one’s thoughts. The piece of corresponding music has been recorded with heavily processed vocals and guitars.

Another fabric collage. Stairway to heaven?