dark
boxlike
outside
peach arclight
dirty windows face the street
volume in the dark
diffuse in light
volume
delineated shades of gray
code received
indicators
discreet
codes
there are lies, then there are
goddamn lies. internal logic
faints in the face of imperative.
what is your box, what is your
code. what do you hope to expose
“in the cold hard light of day”,
so to speak. what defines your
box, will you ride it into the
sunset.
what is this you.
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