"His eyes are staring, his mouth is open, his wings are spread. This is how one pictures the angel of history. His face is turned toward the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such violence that the angel can no longer close them. The storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call progress. "
Walter Benjamin - “Theses on the Philosophy of History”
I was unfolded vertically
Spill me down the street
Show tomorrow at the Silent Barn with Maxo, Amadels and Narrator. Also a Neuroscience lecture on lucid dreaming
Poetry reading/music in Chicago tonight
Playing at Mammal Gallery in Atlanta tonight, should be neat
The emotion of riding a long distance train is not what I expected