)))))))))sound on((((((((
He’s dosed up on repeat.
He thinks about a life where the high-end digital scanner meets the clunk and smudge of a material world. Where the certainty of horizontal ground is hastily tipped into a messy vertical fiction.
He thinks about objects being flattened and given gravity’s downward tug into disorder. Some awkward compromises, between up and down, left and right, keeping-thinking-things-straight.
He knows objects perform, spontaneity is staged, that improvisation becomes structure, structure becomes routine, and routine becomes a life.
I say, ‘this is the one with the fall.’
