almost there
the finish line is close enough that I can finally look away from it for five hours. # Out. Summer feeling. Yuri says I finally look less tense. I told...
There is a manner in which certain things ask to be written, not so that they may be found, but because to exist in silence, for too long, eventually becomes insufficient. It is not urgency. It is something closer to a necessity that makes no noise, waiting patiently until it discovers the proper form. This archive was born in such a way.
Not as a diary. Not as a blog. Not as something that is updated merely for the sake of appearing alive. It is a place where certain thoughts come to rest, those which do not dissolve, those which return, those which insist with the silent obstinacy of things that truly belong to you...
the finish line is close enough that I can finally look away from it for five hours. # Out. Summer feeling. Yuri says I finally look less tense. I told...
after weeks of revision even mediocre techno sounds like liberation. fortunately tonight wasn’t mediocre. # Proper Friday again. I nearly hugged the speakers. Remember me, Eclipse.
music low enough to think. tea strong enough to continue. # Tiny outing. Home. Notes. I don’t want to remember myself as somebody who never worried because I was good...
I would like to file a complaint regarding exams occurring during my social life. # Home. Studying. Friday. This is offensive. Yuri came by for a little while. He called...
one enormous night before I become sensible again. don’t look at me like that. # Yes, I went. Yes, exams. Yes, I know. Hardcore Nation in Verona and I was...
when edo tells me to stop chatting and study, the situation has become objectively serious. # He did. Edo. `Deathcore: go study` I stared at the screen. `Bambolina: WHO ARE...
the maturità has accomplished what parental authority could not: I voluntarily came home early. # I went out because I’m not dead. I came home early because I would prefer...
you spend years wanting school to end and then become offended when it obeys. # I don’t know how to write about this without sounding sentimental, so perhaps sentimental is...
minimal layout because apparently the maturità does not care about my rollover buttons. # White and clean blue. Fewer graphics. Smaller header. Faster loading. I told myself this would prevent...
club seasons end strangely: everybody knows there will be another night and still behaves as though something is dying. # Closing-night feeling. Packed. Hot. Franchino. Familiar faces everywhere. Summer beginning....
the smell of angel + coffee means somebody has turned our living room into work again. # Came home and knew before I reached the room. Angel. Coffee. Adult voices....
every adult wants to know what comes next. tonight I know exactly what comes next: this record. # Good techno. Good people. No five-year plan required at the door. Remember...
Why?
Because every thought leaves a trace. If something moved you, disturbed you, softened you, or made you think, leave it here, quietly.