Copyright Karin Mora 2016
In Italy, a tick rode a doe across a camber very early, before most commuters were up; before people knew there were deer in the city. It was safe: I was driving; I could stop; the road was clear. The doe walked like a jay in that it disregarded zebras and islands and green lights, favouring its own system, seeing the road as a plane, perhaps, or just seeing the road. And what do we see when we cross? Packets of information being ridden by a tag, you’re likely thinking.
Recent Comments