Sunday, 21 September 2014

Crawl into the Traps that you set for yourself suggested the Father

Orange streetlamp light reflected in a rain puddle on an overcast morning (circa perhaps 10am).

Glum laddies and glum ladies piroutte with the utmost elegance, exhibiting an indelible faith in rainshowers. Most unfortunate.

Rodriguez crashing through unfathomable corridors, repeating his name. Emergencies in the blackness of night.

Exhibiting an hallucinogenic hologram of a psuedo-neighbour in various states of ire and confusion. Rapturous applause.

The symbolic father shifts its gaze downwards. Scenes of grey weather; shifting clouds accompanied by ominous synthesizer music.

Something is occurring.

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