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We keep ourselves entertained with our various malaises. We write about them, we write about everything and everything finds a reader, someone somewhere, who will write something else in some other moment, which also will find a reader, and maybe more than one, again somewhere, and it’s more and more likely that this reader is someone living in your street, perhaps in your house, looking at the same faces and happenstances as you, writing about them from his point of view - he may even be a dog or an alien pretending to be a dog, or a human writing from the point of view of an alien pretending to be a dog. This is our new world and it’s not even the only one.
Posted on May 13, 2010 with 2 notes
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