Monday, March 22, 2010


Intention, marooned. There's something about small wooden boxes with nothing much between primate inhabitants and the universe. At the ruins I chase mail found in a box by the road, and chase photon messages from far away suns. When to stop chasing and pay attention? Getting stranded is no one but the captain's fault.

1 comment:

  1. this is dakota wilson, glad to see our doing well, you probably dont remember me, i am curt wison's step-son, we used to come over when i was a kid and ride your go-cart.salute-dakota