What are the facts? Failure of the Imagination. Nothing unimportant is forgotten. We create our own dossiers. Map our errant desires. PERVERSIONS OF THE NEW FLESH.
To disappear, arrive in another place, with no name and no past. To say, hello, my name is Anthony, I work in auto insurance. All sins deleted. Lime soda at the bar of a Holiday Inn, at the edge of the orbital road. A club sandwich please. Yes please. The slate wiped clean. How does the song on the radio sound now?
Everyday is a winding road
I get a little bit closer
Everyday is a faded sign
I get a little bit closer to feeling fine
A clear conscience and with the future beckoning and everything waiting, poised in potentia.
You never put a foot wrong. your friend’s name was Jared.

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