Quiet days in ashleyb

The tabs on my browser rustle motionlessly in the world wide wind, like the leaves of a mud-caked moleskine abandoned before dawn in 1930s Louveciennes.

A draft cannot be heard as it whistles a Gujarati ringback tune under an IP door. A pair of black adidas tuscany walk post-industrially down the cobbled streets of ancient Pavia.

A wisdom tooth turned first whimsical then wicked hyperlinks me to a dentist chair. On a ECG screen, under a pixelled heart, the number 70.

I am ready to pack paper books into cardboard boxes in a brick and mortar room. Meanwhile, I apply mash-up techniques to the craft of powerpoint presentations.

A travelling breeze envelops me in passion and love.

I email you a smile. More frequent posting will resume soon.

December 02, 2004 | 03:05 PM