Consciousness forming conscience categories real life out of the voidly self

Moving along, that bubbly blonde with some dead man’s hat on the hair above her head, strays moving in the air like the laugh of the cut man’s son in, with — I know her style but I am not sure of her type — within the kind of fun loving slink and jig in the corner of her wants. Yes, she needs no introduction, you know. There are twenty more upstairs in the store looking for someone special. You don’t know who she is.

Watching & writing in the void at MONA 8th Oct 2015