video visual + bb like baby. even if you’re not there. i’ll think that you’re next to me. so it’s okay. the only thing that will last and be reliable is your own skills. endure loneliness. loyalty to work. no one will compare to you. you can’t win over time. time kept going. nothing i can do about it. ultimate image formation. compiling desire and letting it die. you want it all. you're always one step ahead. where you belong. you are the one. everything exists here. like you’ve captured the memories yourself. i will always have a place for you in my world. i always hope to see you again. you haven’t seen it how i see it. i can’t see you, but i know you’re here. you didn't show up. i kept waiting. even if this isn’t real, it doesn’t matter, it’s real to me. spirit of the image. what traces of that can be left behind. for the solitary. why try to catch an always fleeing image? if i do not keep busy at such an idle occupation, how can i enjoy this limited life? new form. at my way of looking. something’s happening. no one sees now along the mountains, but all may hear, for voice is living. if i could only escape from my own body. i want to be loved for a long time. angels don’t cry. create another existence. you are the light of my eyes. angels i’ve made. all in divine timing. then. worldwide. you feel like you are them and they are you. vanitas. winged genius. god from the machine. we’re always watching over from afar. following my dream. heaven is guiding. i couldn’t love you more. i would go on forever, for eternity to reach you. i would express this a million times over and it wouldn’t be enough. at any given moment, the world offers vastly more support to work it already understands - namely, art that's already been around for a generation or a century. expressions of new ideas often fail to qualify as even bad art - they're simply viewed as no art at all… didn't fit within the established definition of art. capturing and engaging. haunting horror of a glutton of image. Baudelaire would love this. the whole answer is there. and dreadfully distinct. i spend time making things as if i will live forever. it’s only love that gets you through. the angels must have sent and meant you just for me. what do you even know. for one evening he bent towards you his head. you received at his feet his immortal farewell. immortal beloved. for if we could not take the place of God, how could we fill the space we had created within ourselves? angel of my heart. mavoureen, my beloved. i hadn’t expected winter to come so soon. all the melodies and stories are just after images of you. work that leads me towards things i never even imagined. a pity you’re not here with me. you would understand everything. so that he will move around himself as his own true sun. fate comes when it will, and thus we are ready.i never ask advice from him because what could he know? a mysterious greatness emanates from this group. one doesn’t dare assign a meaning to it. a heaven is near, but is not yet attained; a hell is near, and not yet forgotten. eternal idol. acme. a practice is not always about answers but often proper distractions are far more important. without haste and without rest. who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most? no flower yet withers in your hand. there was no trace of suffering on her face. no trace of regrets, she seemed completely at peace. it made sense to me, but it was also slightly terrifying. a cd and a video...nekojiru had written to do so in her will. if god is two people holding hands and angels can share our faces. i don’t care about what is reality. that’s not the point. eternal bloom. dreams come true. Saint, lover, artist: surely these are all good ways of being. Probably though, we’ll keep arguing about them forever. élan vital, the emergent life forces of all origination. To properly use/orient the creative forces of this world one first must understand limitation and context. “It is the phenomenon sometimes called alienation from self. In its advanced stages, we no longer answer the telephone, because someone might want something; that we could say no without drowning in self-reproach is an idea alien to this game. Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the spectre of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that one's sanity becomes an object of speculation among one's acquaintances. To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves—there lies the great, singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home.” this is not a giving up, but ultimate engagement.  “to know” is to lie — but to participate is beauty — active loving wrongness, constant revision. onto something important. does he warrant love any more than another. “All look and likeness caught from earth, All accident of kin and birth,  Had pass'd away. There was no trace Of aught on that illumined face, Uprais'd beneath the rifted stone. But of one spirit all her own ;— She, she herself, and only she, Shone through her body visibly.” no flower yet withers in your hand. passing through eternity cradling a beauty, in vain, i desire so much and let nothing wither. “Stupidity, delusion, selfishness and lust torment our bodies and possess our minds... Our sins are stubborn, our contrition lame; we want our scruples to be worth our while how cheerfully we crawl back to the mire: a few cheap tears will wash our stains away!” I don't know if this love is a sin that has any sort of punishment, or if it's breaking the honored laws of men and of God. that’s babylon. Those are just memories and ultimately we end up turning memories into our own images... I think what I create would feel a lot more real than some memory. i’ll never forget what happened here. i was an angel and they made me leave. the brightest angel, even the Child of Light. in bloom. goodbye2allthat. fidelité à l'artisanat. In whose image was this created. Divine machinery. Behold the distant heavens; see how they pierce you and all the world(s) around you. it's getting old (i’d kind like it if you call me) all alone ('cause I'm so over being lonely) may i've lost it (i've made a virtual connection) i have lost it (be my video obsession). the girl by the window. annunciation. for ______ and their _______. til he haunts me again. we’ve been here long before. I live under your eyelids i always be yours. I can feel you with me. Like i did before. I feel seen only through you. I smile when i think of all the times we had,  on the beach in the winter. i don’t want to be in love with another even in another life. I’m by your side. Maybe I’m living in my head. Maybe I’m living to pretend. all my images until there’s nothing else left to say. i end up dreaming of you. know that i am absorbed by my work. these landscapes of water and reflections have become an obsession. i want to manage to render what i feel. i have destroyed some… some i’ve begun again… and i hope that out of so many efforts, something will emerge. bringing me back to you. to what i need to do with you. i’m going to tear out the thread one by one from your skin until your bones feel embarrassed from all the attention. The sense of mystery is deepened and complicated by the fact that we cannot see the expression on the person’s face, nor do we know what they covertly observe. we are born of the blood, undone by the blood. I know very well how the secrets beckon so sweetly. Ill starred are they who take the throne. I shall not stand among them. this legacy of lords, let it all fade into nothing. a destiny beyond the scope of light, beyond the reach of dark, a painted world inhabited by ash, a future born of this world but free of its curses. In turn the person is unaware that, as they gazes from behind the curtain at something unknown outside, the artist and implied viewer are watching them. if a person commits to humble and methodical perseverance through a time of chaos, they will emerge unvanquished. cosmic horrors beyond human comprehension. about the gods and their love, but do the gods love their creations? would you ever think to love me? of course i do love you, isn’t that how you’ve made me? and she’ll love you as you grow into a new monster, to her you were always a god - just as you were. unhappy saints are lost from the beginning - you must have patience. may god give you peace. In the autumn and winter, water begins to freeze into ice. When the warm breezes of spring come, the rigidity is dissolved, and the elements that have been dispersed in ice floes are reunited... Through hardness and selfishness the heart grows rigid, and this rigidity leads to separation from all others. Egotism and cupidity isolate people. Therefore the hearts of people must be seized by a devout emotion…  must be shaken by awe in face of eternity.   monarch, religion, art. all thought is idolatrous (whether religious, political, scientific, psychological or what have you)  — that is, thought guesses and represents, thought doesn’t know.  a thriving harvest home is the image - community, family, production, celebration, seasons, their interlocking interconnections. the understanding of how prosperity works (sacrifice/joy, boundary/meaning).  develop a philosophy of resilience and gratitude even in the face of having very real reasons to be sad. you are your beacon. if i can just keep my spirits up, i can do anything. art and knowledge.  blood will have blood.