conditions change. I cannot write with any frankness here for a variety of reasons. this is disturbing. a question comes to mind (along with several other psychological moments where deja-vu riles me to a presence of being that is sustaining). what question? is this a real platform? speaking from the heart. Christa is kind enough to meet me at the airport looking bright and relaxed. we talk about our lives and work over a coffee. somewhere it’s Labor Day, maybe.
the neoscenes/tech-no-mad (b)log ::
traces pathways and actions encountered and undertaken