your_exit anno_salutis the stale air of the four door heat through glass the magnification of the machinations of each person in the machines they honk and brake and turn billboards and exits are prop exits on the veined map of decisions at our mutual periphery. they are not our exits, they fade in and out with the uniformity of trees passed from parallax to deconstructed green in our solitary motion. 141113 ... (z) (nice) 141114 ... unhinged he kept missing the exit said i was distracting him what a metaphor that turned out to be 141114 ... shpaaaaaaaaaaaa shpaaaaaaaaaaaa 141205 what's it to you? who go blather from