Calls from connecticut and i miss things. Specifically people. The night has finally been returned to me and thatapos;s why iapos;m here now. Iapos;ve been living at this house for two weeks now and my body has adapted in its love of normalcy. At first i would walk down the stairs and in a long moment ask myself why i was here. An intruder with modest but wrong intentions. The moments have stopped. Still the surroundings are twisted as the branch of the lilac tree in its dying year. Yesterday i realized my desire to twist the running clock. Itapos;s the voice of age and how itapos;s lost the quiver of youth. Even in uncertainties it knows exactly what to say and how to say it. The old woman spoke as if she took the whole nightapos;s thunder and wielded it into one soft wisp of sound. When i speak i hear the voice dip and bellow in all but audible sound. Spitting out words that quickly melt into the gutter.
peter eisenmann architects, wigan england, wigan crdc end of the line, wigan crdc.
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