FRIDO EVERS

Tudamdamdam~dadudamdam

Fake garden, pardon the bluntness. So this is nature? As in the book Walden? A personal crisis? Through culture you relate.
Will try to fake it at least. Constructed to broaden the potential options for future development I guess. I CAN NOT believe it.
As you make your way in the common fields. Carving your petty tracks. Your pretty construction is wack. Penny lane. Empire.
It's cute they say. Or skillfully executed. I can't even remember how things were before the all-consuming contemporary I.
How the lack of electricity would bring us to our knees. How sexual desire flowed freely. How naive and bold we all were.
We are already different. And will remain so 'til we get the opportunity to starve again. Until hunger. Contained desire.
Desired containment. The I desire release. As I fake closure I fake my eyes. As I close them to fake my blindness.
Knowing it is true. Even more so every day. As I look into the windows of buildings from the cold, chrome-like-lit and lonely city streets at night. I see even more nature.
Contained.

Text Lars Myrvoll

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