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I find it odd that on this Lent(il) project i have opted to write more often than draw. Words seem to stream more easily, i have a devil-may-care-hang-it-what-will-be-will-be attitude to them. My search for perfection quits as i believe i understand that these abstract icons can never truely signify any signified, they are the language of logic, and logic itself dictates that logic is trumped and rummied and full-housed by the chaos (used in its least aggresive context) of reality. There is a freedom in this fall-short, agreed-upon, purely-for-want-of-a-better-system democratic connection machine called language. Its shortcomings are also its strength, the step-back from reality, its abstract nature, its lack of actual connection to reality can be releasing. a sputtering expulsion of steam from this mind. I know that language can never actually express me and that and this, therefore I am not attempting to recreate any real, they are a law unto themselves, a mindgasm.

Words, a truely human invention, like God or insurance.

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