Eno

November 29, 2012

This box was, I think, a christmas present. It seemed to always be pristine, aesthetically – entirely untainted, if that’s the right word, by my enotional life. It offered not a slice of past memories, but if anything, future ones, or more accurately, possibilities and routes of thinking. It was a road map of sorts. Or more accurately a drug, or a brain aide.

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