The stage admires its tedium-splayed boardwanderer.. never a -walker. Not quite; very nearly near to never. Still.. wishing upon a childlike dream – the auteur creates these mere-eager moments, which most amplified nine-to-five people will not ever get to fight to feel
It is Real
And only then shall they inevitably-both-agonisingly feel it for far-too-long-a-time sometimes
Such is the general touch of the rub, this wrought-iron, decidedly transportative lay of the outlandishly transformative land
Sometimes they smile screaming for miles
Excited for theOCDtodisappear
But it won’t/shan’t/always has/can’t? Yes indeed, there is a line of obsession weening its way through each one of us, begging to be relayed via immaculate filter system … pristine and deliciously imperfect, please!!
Because Perfect is the word that nobody needs