What do images tell us that we do not tell ourselves in our waking dream states?
Is history a fable only?
What am I trying to accomplish here, given the current state machine we call Earth?
Of a culture with ideas in close proximity, do limits approach zero or diverge outward to infinite possibilities?
Inventiveness begets company.
How shall/do I live so that words like “corporate” and “business” are perfect for any weather, profitable or otherwise?
Will disaffected youth, no matter what label we give them or they give themselves, always seek rebellion?
In a dataset of seven-plus billion, where are the boomerangs and ocarinas that sing sweet haunting melodies which come back to us again and again like the swallows of Capistrano?