*
This is an impressions album. Or it was. Youth is so impressionable.

Ultra blurry, anamorphic, interatomic movement grows smug in writing it down. Large and tiny instincts proceed within mixed episodes and a school of red herrings..

Encore..
Like nowhere else in space,
A luscious, noiseless bonding in the era or epoch of the perpetually alterable

— a smack of already regretting it conjoins an invisible roll call gathering around neighbors’ mixed brays.

Music, if viable, of bee vapor. All our neighbors are mirror bees. Am I not one?