no longer able to fire the mother-tongue to lick and make burn the reality that eyes adsorb. lost language. to lose ones language is to lose one’s self. what’s left? but as words go, images of Light fire up. birch trees imitating the sun.
the neoscenes/tech-no-mad (b)log ::
traces pathways and actions encountered and undertaken
no longer able to fire the mother-tongue to lick and make burn the reality that eyes adsorb. lost language. to lose ones language is to lose one’s self. what’s left? but as words go, images of Light fire up. birch trees imitating the sun.