Sunday, February 23, 2014


The network stutters so that in the confusion that builds up between us, you and I can build in those versions of ourselves who know why the network is here in the first place, that is, to imitate connections, which it does; only we developed a phobia of connections on the way, sometime between when we promised to permeate through the wires and show up by each other’s side and when we found separate back alleys to stop by and deal with oneself before meeting at the coffee table used-to waiting, sometime between when we didn't dial and when we dialled too often; sometime between when we found stories to tell and when we found stories that hurt and we stuttered.

And the network keeps imitating the lulls we keep allowing.

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