Friday, 7 November 2014

Transcribed liberty

this.

Such bold belonging to the transcription.

This writing all along reveals a series of words.

These words accumulate toward a description of longing.

Our description here is obviously desiring the transcendence of the script.

Obvious desiring, so we shred this and instead we seek the invention of lucidity.

There is a pearl in the sun.

The pearl is placed at the bottom of the lobster pot. 

This creel is woven of winds, circular and furious winds that contain a brilliance at their base.


Our crustacean enters into the trap, it is about to invent lucidity.

The pearl in the sun has become architecture.

It seems impossible that architecture will rue this day.

Will architecture turn in shame and encase itself in a lustrous crust of beauty?



This seems impossible because we cannot describe architecture as that which will return to the sun.

Here is our clearness narrowed down to a walk between colonnades. 

The long exchange of light and shade within the columns.

Along the roof, around the guttering, angry animations creak and grimace.

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