Dolls Without Soul

Simple puzzles. Dolls without their soul. The hours in grim orbit. Circling the experiment. The foreboding box. With nothing and every inside of this.

So few walls to write upon. No space for numbers anymore. And these heavy wings. That wager their feathers against gravity. If I could measure that falling. The choices would be mine again.

The arithmetic named and solved. With several errors. Simple puzzles. of skin and bone. Rip the map into smithereens. I see the destination in the empty box. It’s easy enough to wait for the world to catch up. But I see better in the dark.

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It’s the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen.

My best regard for Brassac (sculptor), Starckmann (sculptor), Debay (sculptress), Bruno (photographer),  Mc. Callan-Moore (photographer), Nathalie Strippe (photographer)


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