Telecommunications of the future.

Office Barbie.

The Truth.

But how true it is

Bitterly

True

That you will not be Queen forever

You will fall

I may fall too

Perhaps you will renounce

Humbly

How true it is

That each of us may bask for a while

In dreams

Of milk

Silk

Colours rich

Embroidered day to day

Oh whisper of silence that drew us away

Take us home

This hum of quiet

Home

Even though I will lose you in a thread of time

Sewn through space

Your pull

Away

My only signal

Home

Richmond, 11:41

And so quiet

Hover to the night

As the train ambles closer

Near a cool humid light

Void aperitif.

A known path in times before
Now little sense of beyond
Yet desire for feeling the
Touch of a branch
Tickle
Of a blade


Stepping in
Or stepping out
Hold this hand of mine
If you walk through
I will go
too


But the air is thick
Black
Powdery
It circles us closer
Then breaks us
apart


And the truth
We have reached
The void

The Executive Set.

Not another Cohen-ism.

Free time.

I saw a UFO but nobody believes me...

I'll just have the fish.

Roll call.

Window to a Self Portrait.

Moving in.

Just might need an electrician...

You've got to accentuate the negative.

Speaks for itself.

Train picnic.

Vitra.

The Eve.

A study.

In a booth.