It was a warm September evening.

There were so many things that don’t exist.

This tradition was based on aesthetic experiments.

Our technique was based on desire, not experience.

We had dismantled the interior.

We were writing on the city, which was a screen on a clock.

All we wanted to do was deform a surface.

We wanted to experience the mortality of thought.

We saw no space prior to bodies and their intervals.

The secular niches were flickering luminously.

Space was a very fine condition of corpuscular light.

We witnessed immaterial tissues.

We embellished antiquity with our laughter.
 
 
 

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Lisa Robertson
 

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