Arrêts Fréquents
Watery Vancouver, where the light comes late. I sat in the hotel (won’t go to the conference just yet, not quite yet) and imagined myself in a pencil sketch of a building, a crosshatching full of white space.
“The greatest challenge we face is a philosophical one: understanding that this civilisation is already dead.” But it’s not a challenge at all. It’s all too easy to understand, to carry it around morning to night as a double exposure laid over catching the train, ordering dinner. Between small plates and the entrée at one of the best establishments in the city, “Idioteque” came on the sound system, the last thing I ever thought I’d hear in a restaurant... women and children first... and we kept drinking, suits and dresses, and money changed hands.
