Just a hamfisted b+++h who awoke under the grid and carved out trails. structures in the trees. hollowed out earth. For no good reason other than hey I’m here let’s make a mark on this place.

The lines were above us. Spun alive by radar towers, sliced by fighter jets. We knew, somehow, in what we thought was unbounded freedom → there was something else.

imagined worlds were real: self-stories about being born fully formed in a fissure ∆ granite rock cut from a lightning strike / once ⚔︎ wielding 🜂wooden sword + will: ∴ vanquished sixxx foes in one day

shenanigans aside ☞ … quietly obsessed with creating visuals inspired by structures + inherited / invented…

contorting to fit?? (Y/N)

energy: sexy beast just ripped off your blindfold to reveal her workship with a moon rocket made of garbage cans and dynamite and a seat on top, for your ass. Tactics: hard systems and the human parts. Where do we stop and they start? Answer incoming. Kills: your fucking curiosity and you know it. In a world of kitch why is this work deliberately not trying to seduce you. You can take it, leave it. It will still be here.

With all the structure, hardened spaces—imagined + real, feel safe? for a time at least.

// There are always holes. secret openings //

paths to new places, [with no predators + no challengers,] where you are queeen of your own whims++.

DLLCOPE exists as freedom from past spaces….

creating somthing that feels right for this [time /place]

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