The forced rockstardom of it all feels dated and embarrassing
One is facing what is not yet formed, and this is perhaps the work/text that becomes a convocation of persistent latencies, of states of indistinction, vibrating in shining photographic paper, painting with light, trying to erase the polarizations that suffocate what remains in a constant state of asking, demanding for more
Visualise what you could do with an extra few thousand pounds each year
It is impossible to give an adequate idea of the picturesqueness and vivacity of the river trade
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and frankly, I enjoyed it