Dead Tracks 06

version x2


The wind beats. I gaze, horrified. It's absurd to see, yet it'sSingle eye clearly there.


None. An endeavour of folly of a frightening kind.


Stateliness, power, such things require a crown. The uncrowned is creepy. The crown with its weight keeps under control the magnitude of the work. Provides mortals with proportion. Take it off, and it's unnerving: its size, extent, incomprehensibility.


The implements we use secretly stare at us, maliciously gloating at our lack of perception, hidden in plain sight.