an age, an era
welcome to the past, here it is, lovely internet-age retro. do you remember when you learned to love yourself? do you remember when you fumbled and stumbled and aired your dirty laundry in the public square, with flowery language, with all your might? in full abstract glory, anonymously faced with comerades, you took to the figurative streets, mixing and mingling to find common ground in the commons, and you did, by golly, find common ground. those souls who turn nocturnal and write, who find solace in this medium where solitude can turn into super-social, where words free and unite us, in the confines of the road less traveled... a well-loved old mix tape in a shoe box, with a postcard from greece and a photograph of a glass flower bouquet, and the whole found treasure smells like jasmine. you have the mixtape, only you don't have a stereo to play it on anymore, and you're trying to get rid of everything, and your cosmic space is all taken up, and you wonder, is this treasure or is this junk?