This ole Tasma. Fungus growing on the emulsion. Life present, always consuming in all environments where there are molecules. An old Kodak 35 with a cracked lens.

Baby loves the sun and wind. It seems the stones don’t move. It seems we move at almost the speed of light. It seems impulse is a difficulty to be avoided.

It’s dry here like a parched desert, I see a thought but it is far on the horizon. I am thirsty. I keep moving forward. You shouldn’t join me. There is a sad darkness as bright as the sun.