Montag, 22. September 2008


Baroque has an autumnal flavour. The ruling order has disintegrated, baring bones and crevasses. Gravity wrestles control back from heavenly aspirations, and everything tumbles and flattens. From a distance only the hue appears different, as if someone had asked a question. Up close wind has bunched and twirled the details, throwing them in to unexpected symmetries, warping features, revealing.

Defined space has collapsed, become concave. It folds in and under itself, mocking time. It's all bass and reverb, gold and crimson. Shadows lengthen.
Nymphs and Fauns, high on fruit, stumble out and dance a merry path through the clutter. Fountains prust proudly and old men ruffle their beards, peering from naked trees. Everything stretches and yawns in a lazy expectation.
A podcast on web2.0 and GIS tomorrow evening.
Clear skies over Berlin. btob, formerly 5elf.
N Clear skies over Venice.

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