The drawing/monito bears the Nike of Samothrace...
An I started to watch the poetree, portrayed in my personal drawings
The comprehension of Яeality, with uppercased Я, was a fiction I dreamt long ago.
But now I dwell in the premises of colors and strokes...
report on your deeds and events
but I resort to the word-processor, that is what I am, A processor of Word
As my friend Ozk put it "El Ordenador de Palabras."
Our lineage of decadent writers has been saved.
Decadent Writer, possibly, but we decorate the word with artifacts
ejecting our "chuchadas" of thick word-work
into the clogged space of fake.
That's what we have encountered.