Three weeks since i got into a hitting-backspace-spree and no sign of improvement. This draft is full of dead start and looks like a dump of words with no meaning if you read them one after another. I even had a dream about it some days ago, but the dream faded away so don’t think I’m gonna start with some… backspace-backspace-backspace.
It happened again. Looks like I can’t avoid it. Or maybe it’s a loop, a neverending loop, a everreturning loop. I’ve tried everything, even not writing, but well doesn’t work like that. Too much stuff, too much words, an overload of thoughts. But nothing, and then I figured it out: maybe this is just about stealing stuff. And so… - Toilets and culture and the culture of toilets… backspacebackspacebackspace - It’s a wonder how we somehow manage to find out way around. … backspacebackspacebackspace - The practice is all that remains. … backspacebackspacebackspace - Believe it or not, this mass of zucchini and egg is an open-faced sandwich I’m about to eat. … backspacebackspacebackspace
Today was a lovely day, and they stole my striped shirt hanging outside. Somebody is by any chance trying to say me something?
So, now, let’s get back to “things”. And let’s forget about the backspace key.
"I'm from Libya," he said. I don't know what to say. It's as if he'd told me he'd just come from his father's funeral.
The first specialty coffee shop in Ikebukuro and Junkudo (bookstore) resonate.
Editing is interpreting.
The Riddle of Steel.
The man stands motionless in a crush of white-shirted salarymen, as they swarm past him, toward the single escalator.
Rêve de centre commercial-piscine
Birthday walk home