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Songs (10)
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At home. Thinking of ourselves as puppets, made of flesh, time and stories, always moved by something written: but by whom? A theatre made up of self-observations, trills of winged parentheses
與我共舞:尤其是那袋鼠般的熱浪,被你迷惑,因此,它像有袋動物一樣,將深淵向前推進,從背後與原始神秘主義的殘餘勢力交戰。
Young Body discovered, intimate crime forever
Seize only what you become. Said the Urban Vampire, the anti-historical orchestrator of mechanical lives
The Mindful Human-Machine Co-Learning Class
Fathers and Sons, the playful graveyard
World Matters, Ice Feast Fold 12, counter-sequencing and other survival tricks — asalways, 'round the corner someone is rhythmically, cinematically raped
After having sex, parting ways is never difficult. It’s an inherent biological craving that eventually subsides.
A fleeting glance, the profile of a man, traveling, lost in thought. Humiliations suffered, inflicted, and now another prayer of love flies away. I wonder if people outside of ourselves really exist... But who are “we”? To finally entrust oneself...
We will meet again — coordinates unknown, reason unknown, all repeating as known
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Provided courtesy of Apple Music.