Site Recite (a prologue) © 1989 Gary Hill (text in description)

Copyright © 1989 Gary Hill Nothing seems to have ever been moved. There is something of every description wich can only be a trap. Maybe it all moves proportionately cancelling out change and the estrangement of judgement. No, an other order pervades. It’s happening all at once. I’m just a disturbance wrapped up in myself, a kind of ghost vampirically passing trhough the forest passing trough the trees. The sun will rise and I won’t know what to do with it. Its beak will torture me as will its slow mo