"The routine of instagram postings seem to remix the saturated motifs of airport lounges and security guarded hypermarkets. Possibly concealing a secret, sgnals to the others, messages on the state of things here. on planet Earth. But why are the pools so clear in sunlight that seems almost too warm? Pictures tinted in the primary colours of excess; are they real or zircons and on the collars of those kissing borzois?

Green splash, black square a speck of dust magnified and repeated in empty rooms. Why are two dots inside a tin of paint, their edible colour make the poisonous look organic, is that how they like it over there, up there on that milky globe.

I was just thinking to be it has nice, a hiccuped poem in scrambled sentiments for a click through indifferent user. Cigarettes, fingers dry with blood, come free in eggshell blue with 9 likes on Monday.

There is so much deceit in semaphore, that shows us not how or where is the way. Street signs ground control, screens to watch a world through, mixed up binary coding slack to the hardness in soft lines."