Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short times of spaces. Five, six: the nacheinander. Exactly : and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles o'er his base, fell through the nebeneinander ineluctably. I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do. My two feet in his boots are at the end of his legs, nebeneinander. Sounds solid : made by the mallet of Los Demiurgos. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand ? Crush, crack, crick, crick. Wild sea money. Dominie Deasy kens them a'.
Atelier
Sophie Rabau