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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


07.02.04, friday afternoon

On Friday afternoons, the slightly bakery scent of sunblock is very reassuring. I like it in grassy pastures near lakes like Temescal, amidst the tiny songbirds callithumping as I read Roland Barthes. That's right, The Pleasure of the Text.

Especially after a Thursday walking through the Financial District past the Suits glumly clogging sandwich shops during lunch hour.






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