Time passes with no record— because there is nothing to document. An endless procession of days and nights. A montage of work and subways and movies and loneliness. There are moments of quiet joy as I relax and accept a daily scenario devoid of romance, drama, meaning. It is a state of empty sobriety. I am an empty house— waiting for the guests to arrive.
April 11th, 1982
April 11th, 1982
April 11th, 1982
Time passes with no record— because there is nothing to document. An endless procession of days and nights. A montage of work and subways and movies and loneliness. There are moments of quiet joy as I relax and accept a daily scenario devoid of romance, drama, meaning. It is a state of empty sobriety. I am an empty house— waiting for the guests to arrive.