.../... L'ETAT DES LIEUX > read from Roma to New Orleans. Peter P., at the age of one, in Berlin wrapped in the souvenirs of WILL. No comment for a book, the place of the state(s). Elemental dreams. Collectible realm. Face in the dirt in a red shirt. Test tube of an illusionist looming head to toe. Babies who said why. My knee down the table. Ostrich wayfarers learn to li[EA]ve acceptance at the tip of the continent with no REDUX. There is at least one ISSUE. Big enought to rock'n roll. L'ETALE ET LE TERRAIN : the state of the location, a place oof the dirt (there ain't mud mirror). peter cramps forward : "Don't kill the time ! It blurt a smile" swing like an anti-motto. So on... A NOD TO THE REST OF US : "Let's champ the fiction!" A guy (named as a Neil Young record) frozen gesturing in black & white on my camera screen. It is three months after. It was five months ago. It's in Ceylon & it isn't bright at all. It's NOT serenpidity AT ALL. Then there are just TV screams and appropriate replicas of "non-figures".
[The SA without U] :
In the distance it's a hill. In the dark it's shaped like tame creatures lost in their own stare. Night & day it's terraced by lucky mesh of divisional splits.
NO WILD AGAINST THE GRAIN : blistering scapes devolved to measure the weight of time. Peter has a mate. (A) Principle as the turn over VS the remedy.
A drive along theshores. The sunshine coast. Magnificent sands. Feel like drops on a spare sheet . Hopeless in the wind. A bias RESPONSE.
