featureless netizens,
I'm stuck again with a wall of aporias for companionship not sure how to go on. The memory is supposed to kick in during these times when the path is blocked solid. The memory reminds me of other times like these and how I managed to move around the impasse. This is the frontier I guess. The limit of the wild west saying stop! where are you going? I look around and find the support of I don't know what and language is going on a holiday, letting go, there I catch my breath and the portends seem empty now and almost dissappointing except for the sense of presence that finds me without an objective and poor;-- riding a technological monster as if it were a troop of transformative dragons of the to-come. Da Sign of promises of a linguistic community that is without a future prospect aside from co-operating in a negative labour grounded in empty possibilities. Language with difficulty and perhaps tragically finds itself in an indifferent festival tinkering with found pieces of multiple origin that already have been produce for a useful purpose but are now recycled for the masked party whose motto is "mutability and enjoyment!". Yes, breathwork and light feet go together and waves at others outside the same time in the grand style where we stumble on the fullness of time well bound together and at rest.
tympan tzu plato
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