¬ f r e q u e n c i e s # 2

  Chances are, you might as well find out more the longer we wait: the true emotions are dreadful transcriptions which are buried under decades of scrap. The only absent grand narrative is propably written by people who protect their dark years behind shiny surfaces and purposeful lists of pretentiousness.
It's only when you hear them talk: you find the surrounding lyrics, and like a necessary patch you are somehow unified and anyone will tell you it could happen again..

  The only absent grand narrative is probably written by people who protect their dark years behind shiny surfaces and purposeful lists of pretentiousness.
He, too, became embodied in the rumours. For weeks i felt terrified by what actually fails to address much at all, unable to subscribe to another smart-arsed workaround. Shake my head now, I have gotten up up at dawn and you never had to pay for anything so look into it because memories come free of charge.

  She looks moody in the morning, captures the spirit of a frozen city deprived of movement and life, glossy advertisments remember her of her own true self. The volume of the speaker blaring over the platform is way too loud, her hands tremble blueish in the cold.Mediocrity, mutation, freedom, mistakes, memories, wow, healthier than drugs, she thinks, it's good to emerge and not be embarrassed. black oil on the sleepers and black smears on the face of a child, and i remember well how i met her a year ago in a berlin club, heaving.

  Correction: she can change in a few hours and felt ready to go back to real life again. Ah, the gravel under my soles and the grey winter punks with puppy dogs tugged into their jackets, back to basics and i was out of here. One by one the bodies vanish into a blur, so i decide to walk straight until i emerge from the fog.

  Snow melts in my hands and causes a cold sensation of pain, a rift like a scratch on vynil, repeating a sick pattern, similar to fingers cought in spinning spokes - and no - i'm not finished yet: front rows aren't what they used to be. Rules and regulations: there is a lot of phantasie involved about things that are not there, we're sent a selection, it is easy to believe. Success is far from guaranteed. Freethinkers don't buy them, won't read them, pound for pound, support and act stills from a forgotten land, to stay true we have to keep our feet stuck in the muck.

  White. And a cup of coffee. White. And wet feet in the sand. We shook hands, instant empathy- White.
Our lives a period of illusions, and i spent most of my time alone.White. White.


  A rivulet of blood flows into the snow. Red, white and something grey in between, hand in hand, white and open the moment, intimacy, white as seen on TV. She'll feed you cigarettes and it looks as if to begin and create a brand new place superceding a forbidden past.
The struggle of finding its violent blood and remember:
if your imagination fails to learn that which belies the truth it becomes sucked out of your brain.

  He is in love like an insect at the most extreme, slams ten weeks to prepare a change - but he broke into simple subjects and thought it's funny. A sense of wonder bruises and soothes you. We have to take it on. You, me, whoever else can talk about it better shuts up now..

  For a few days his morbid emotions split between i don't give a fuck and celebrating a wild, mindless, subtle and symbolic, visually pleasing craving for more.
You won't remember, you won't remember anything. We gazed upon the yellow surface and were taken aback by the subdued silence in an abandoned building. Here the street walls have a burnt amber patina and steel points pierce through a brick and the crowd appears reconstituted, a humming wave of mortal humans, smiling, taken to habit and spurred by random acts.

  Tell me, do you remember the smell of a sunny day, when our skin was brown and the neighbour made funny faces? A series of faces in black and white, a figure in the dark, a book filled with the first scribbles.

  Wind speed reached 530 kms per hour. we stopped here, right in the middle of nowhere.

max ensslin ~:) 16.nov02 2nd draft