Hinge
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Between the terrible clarity of the sun, and the secret power of the night, a fault-line. Dusk: neither the bright sun of madness or the black hole of God, neither a messenger or a channel, but the infinity of their absolute interconnection — which is surely also to say, their complete disintegration. Between growth and decay, learning. Instruction crosses between, voyages outwards, away from the familiar. An exodus. Between saying and doing, an […]
