I:I?>

[rehabstyle]

Comments

[yhancik]

(are Swatch aiming at the SM people or is that a play on "new wave" or.. what ? :p)

[rehabstyle]

I don't know - both??

(the billboard could be old, i dont know where it came from)

[yhancik]

(it has a strong 80s feel anyway ;) )

perhaps perhaps

[anonymous]

Perhaps it matters what time it is in France or what she was doing then with whom in the newest new way. Perhaps in her pocket, perhaps held in her hand, perhaps lost, in the car, home, bed. Who knows what time it is in France or when her alarm will wake her up from intoxicating framed dreams. It is a matter of perspective and how good it is for her, of how close they are and how close they dream of being and if when and where they will look at their watches to see what time it is. Who would be happy if time stood still and their eyes meet forever or if it was no longer a worry when might a worry occur, on their feet, a worry of flight of fight of night, a worry of never again a worry of not having enough, to make the moment last as time flies over her in a plane, not at all, over the hills through the hill tops and to a castle far far away perhaps a Prince, she is prepared to meet her faith, perhaps there is a wish to be taken, perhaps perhaps perhaps. There is a swerve of curiosity no matter where her mind takes her no matter

perhaps perhaps

[anonymous]

In Paris a boy looks at a puddle of water on the street and sees his face and thinks the view of a peasant to be particularly pleasant because the day is so gray and his mother so angry and that yes, he likes this private space on the street where he can see himself alone without the street, a private view of who he is, the sky lite and the air filling his body to feel high of height in a frozen perspective of time, that memory is with him as he rests the rest of his life, he forgets at times. Walks looking for it without recalling what he is specifically looking for. It: a feeling of missing, a way of seeing who he has become as a man, he travels through the city searching for a way to find this dead feeling, the internal I but finds it predispositioned to inquire. There is a billboard in the city. A woman with two watches vogues at him humbling him under her breath that is sweet blossoms in the wrong seasons yet exactly right to make him question civilization and why man decided to settle down. He wonders. He ponders perhaps it

perhaps perhaps

[anonymous]

the way of connecting reason with matter with space and time and the remember the times who needs the feeling of being alive the eye the I the everything encompassed in one-we all do- we are all timing the time it takes to change and revolt ourselves into a new awakening of the old that roles over us in us in a blanket leveling the strangers with the strange and making what has never been made a fucking joy ride of understanding notunderstanding how absolutely amazing we all are and the representations notwithstanding that we share in us ourselves myselves byselves triselves are shelved in decadence and chocolate, forget me nots and condoms on top of a mantle and the greatest weakness is not believing in the unbelievable, missing the punches not jumping in to join the ride for the feeling of being beaten is greater than winning as winning is greater than being beaten out of an eye to eye relationship everything and nothing goes too fast and too slow and too painful and too enjoyable to imagine being (together) until out of the

Re: perhaps perhaps

[rehabstyle]

im glad my post was so inspiring to you...

mais, who, pray tell?