Wednesday, April 12, 2006

The little racecar burps and snores around the track in the video game PC's playing. It leaps clunkily over the curb and up a hill beside the track, a hill made of that computer-nothing, that color and that form becoming less distinct the closer that it seems, that seems to merge with the car or the guy or the tank or gun and yet also to repel it, all these things swimming in their brave and fragile world, struggling to lay claim to some discreteness, to survive.

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