"All day chasing an idea: dizzy fireflies against the web of speculation, and no flowering, not even an incipient bud in the window cutout lends focus to the hypothetical garden. silence that, in gerund, late nights, is sometimes white (like lips of astonishment) sometimes black (like blindness, like fear tied to the throat) held only by a thread, fragile and fissile, tiny to infinity, minimal where the superlative collides and is all that I'm willing to dispense with the dream of a probable ground until my feet dig into the face of this last flower." #VideoPremium ❤️