nicole rademacher

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

escritos two

There were never any questions when we hung out, just thoughts, just things that occurred to us. We said them. Sometimes we responded to what another said and sometimes not. Many times there were the long silences when we were all deep in thought. In out own special worlds that we created for ourselves. This is where we lived. Our physical cities were constantly changing, but our real place of residence always stayed the same. There was really no where else to go. The choices that we saw in front of us all resembled one another, and all there was a redundancy in there placement and a redundancy in the actions that we took there. We had done this so many times that it was almost a science for us. We moved and found places to live. We found friends and learned a language. We found lovers and fucked. It was as easy as that. We were filling a well that didn't have a bottom. The bottom had fallen out long ago. It fell during our childhood when all of our needs were met. We grew up without having to be satisfied and now none of us are. We are insatiable and will always be, because we live in our own worlds. The well cannot be filled. If it could be filled our world would be over. We seek, that is what we do. We wander and meander, but not so much in the common sense, not in the classical sense, yet classical we are.

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