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so there has been a while nothing, because nobody neurotic crossed the field, which is a lie, but this is a public space, you understand. instead i have been philosofishing all the way along and things like that, because there was a bit of sahara in the mind due to the weather which was rain rain rain rain, especially regarding the love cases like the art / the moon, sometimes even the balcony (because is so narrow). well. what can we do about it, right? ups. hello welcome first, of course. totally forgot because it's already shape 314159265359 - me like right away putting the elbows on the table with the feet directly after, sorry. so welcome also to the english man, hallo you, bem vindos. for the others, saying that roger penrose was here recently / actually for quite a while / unfortunately he does not know about his presence in my space. maybe one day, him and me talking on the narrow balcony, but me in my room and he standing in the studio, which recently turned the office, but it's dolly's business, so what can we say about it? who was also not here was hugo, but i was in his basement, indeed i have been to his house and lost the cinderella shoe, but guess what: then they (him and some hooligans of love) have lost the cinderella shoe as well. what a story. while all this happening, the dolly is just hanging out in working position like all good womens, doing her playing cooperative girl things, having a cardigan she is pushing over the breast when waiting for the coffee machine to do its magic. it's all about the attitude. synchronicities and cats and time and perception and so on. when after death the body remains it must be hell, that's how i passed another day not converting to the islam, but then i am still stupid enough to wonder if the conscious unibody won't miss the erratic version, because in this states and all this kinds and forms we won't intoxicate ourselves anymore because how and why right? life is fucked up to assume there will be saudade towards this subject. makes me little sad now; so instead about yesterday. yesterday, yesternight better said, i have been on a pretentious society banquet, a provisoric table without food but at dinner times; us sitting there, a movie maker / slash / poet asking me, if i live of air and i say one more time: it's all the attitude, baby. xx. at that point it's not even worth to criticize capitalism, because one thing it at least has in frontal nose: no embarrassment on their side. because all good financed and stuff, but also most good thinkers already confused quite a while ago something. architects don't create social housings because architects don't come from social housing. apparently i am spiced up for this thing there yesterday, even though there has been sitting the french version of the other; with a beret, of course (of course) and a red turtleneck. there is something about red, i can't lie. do you guys know the cher interview and then do you also remember byung-chul han? as someone would say, it's all a big shit show, not cher of course, she never would be any kind like that, instead she is like the diana under the chers!, but doesn't matter, depression boy, that's it, and produced by whom you ask? is from daddy. little present before take off. maybe i can not say these things anymore, because the academia, but then i still have the dirty fingers from digging so it's been just dolly saying this things, right? it's always her, never behaving. mmm. naja, but the student also survived it, so technically academia already run over one time. does it feel like bed time stories then, i wonder. aside from all the side hustle at the moment i am staging a witch temple, manifesting the daughter of the king (in reverse of course) to come here, we could sit and play traffic light with our chair collection. (i avoid claiming i was once an architect.) ah, apropos snobs, on thursday there was cooperate party, but like real one over two floors, with all men dressed in white and no hair. so no hairline apparently a thing with the advocates, but we avoided speaking with them, table was nice there though, if i would be a cooperative kind i'd even emphasize with the dj, but no there is no artistic excuse for that, so excuse me, they gave autonomy over the bottle opener, you understand. the only thing unacceptable once you swallowed your pride there was this aristocat, mister no hairline in future, who was constantly blinking as he has seen a unicorn. we could have done the chicken dance, but then i was just seated too well so i had instead the thing in my hand to control the society, the little metal spiral, as it should be called - in the background him saying twice something double. if someone would listen i might say it's a shame, but daddy already took off, so. it stays in the clouds instead with us, the ones with faces but without names; well- we are not all blessed, we are not all kissed - at this exact moment i own four mattresses, four pillows, a blanket, a candle, a misminted coin.  it's the altitude. xx your nostalgia