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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

if only

If I could float away on a glossy, green lily pad….that might be the thing to relax me. I’d just float down river and watch the tendrils of my cigarette smoke drift away on the warm little breeze. I could close my eyes and run home movies in my mind. These home movies would be re-released versions of past memories that were spliced so I only have to see the good parts.

If I happen to snag on a rock, or a little bramble of wood that has gathered in the river, I’d just hop to another lily pad and continue on with my little journey.

In my mind, I can see the blue sky on top of me, in a safe looking little bubble. A giant arc from East to West. Maybe here, the sun doesn’t go down for days at a time, and I get all my work done from the lily pad. Sometimes, I could do the dishes on there as well. Then I would have squeaky clean white dishes to eat from , but really all I would do is drink big cups of hot black coffee. My computer whirring away in the background.

Oh this lily pad is a sanctuary. And a means to a destination. One click here and you’re there. Just follow my little tracks and you can find me.
I finally got a hold of a polaroid camera and some film. I could take photos of my destinations. Leave a little trail of photographs for someone to follow.

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