4 November 2005

day 2

I don't know what the hell I am doing. I am between worlds, without the sharpness of mind to be aware of my surroundings. I don't survive, I dabble. If daily life can be like an architecture, with the 'life force' as the pole opposite the force of gravity, the pillar that is supposed to keep me standing, the realization of art, is rather composed of a diffuse filigree of all of the trivia and discursive habitude of a sketchbook.

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