A landscape devoid of transparent eyeballs. When did we all become photographers? Freeze fleeting things, filter clouds, endless beauty a simple effect.
Funny how enclosures feel obsolete— the graves, the houses, three-sided mornings— when I am a share, a like, self-simulacrum selfie. I stand on a fascinating algorithm, Below that it’s reposts all the way down.
Share, share a like, share a googol of happy lives better than yours.
Are we saying yes to starting off yet again, absent this time?