The small tape strips, like thin sections of rock under a microscope, have the peculiar colors under polarized lights.
I observe, over these glances, over these statuary faces.
Pieces of skin from another memory, from a time which we slowly forget the rhythm.
They were here, as I was forgetting where, in depht of this ethereal atmasphere.
I was forgetting them, although this image would surely retain a share of themselves, of their gaze, rewritten in the style of a hero factory.
I observe, over these glances, over these statuary faces.
Pieces of skin from another memory, from a time which we slowly forget the rhythm.
They were here, as I was forgetting where, in depht of this ethereal atmasphere.
I was forgetting them, although this image would surely retain a share of themselves, of their gaze, rewritten in the style of a hero factory.
