roses and lies - Olivier Bonhomme
When you wander through the walkways, above space ship launches off the fingertips of their galaxy spiral, below killer whales hunting in the Arctic, you might wonder at your wonder at the creativity of their self-delusion.
The walkways hum with everything they are as a species –define who they are: a myriad of combinations, alive; diverse and dangerous.
Borrowers and burrowers plague the passing throng with promises and threats; trinkets to carry with you always.
The walkways offer no alternatives than to consume: everybody has to eat.
Nico hadn’t been out for a while, she’d been hiding from the loss of Jan, unable to pull herself back to that place where her head and heart had been in equilibrium.
She’s become sensitised to the intrusive nature of the last remaining advert: the advert offered up on the walkways, offered most strongly; the advert that promises a reality so divorced from the hard facts of life; so enticing to her sweet-tooth.
Nico bites her ego’s tongue and takes in the dark beauty of the walkways; their neon, luminescent, psychotropic lure; the myriad of tongues and the night air laced with the cooking of spiced food; she feels her head floating amid the throng; one cluster of charged particles amid an electric storm.
The walkways hum with everything they are as a species –define who they are: a myriad of combinations, alive; diverse and dangerous.
Borrowers and burrowers plague the passing throng with promises and threats; trinkets to carry with you always.
The walkways offer no alternatives than to consume: everybody has to eat.
Nico hadn’t been out for a while, she’d been hiding from the loss of Jan, unable to pull herself back to that place where her head and heart had been in equilibrium.
She’s become sensitised to the intrusive nature of the last remaining advert: the advert offered up on the walkways, offered most strongly; the advert that promises a reality so divorced from the hard facts of life; so enticing to her sweet-tooth.
Nico bites her ego’s tongue and takes in the dark beauty of the walkways; their neon, luminescent, psychotropic lure; the myriad of tongues and the night air laced with the cooking of spiced food; she feels her head floating amid the throng; one cluster of charged particles amid an electric storm.
Tales for an attention deficit world
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