Frays

November 10, 2009

goldroom

 

The hardness limbs of distance, gold light and fissures. The space of the enclosure, the space of the opening. The way these things live out abandon, the way they trace the lines of age in sweeping details, in peelings, in the merciless gesturings of gravity and heat. Our sense of decay informing our sense of growth, ongoing.

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