Friday, 9 March 2007
The first sentence of the book I'm currently reading.Moonlight silvered the room, painting the bed in a hundred shades of grey, white, and black.
The first sentence of the last three books I've read.Attending Burning Man made me simultaneously one of the most photographed people on the planet and one of the least surveilled humans in the modern world.
The stains of rust seemed to map blood seas on the black, pocked surface of Mock's Vane.
So Typewriter John and I have spent the last hour lying to each other, faking concern, panic, and desperation, all the while helping the other look for the last hit.
They Call Them Buttons.
I Wish I Could Make My Own.
But I Don't Know How.
So I Just Cut and Paste.