assumptions make the world go picasso. who is she? who is he? that's what we all do, don't we? ponder, allude, and conclude based on those so-so moments in life. those moments that don't exactly shine and aren't exactly dangerous. sometimes i wish i was a jamaican smoking pot, talking about the glory of punani and laughing at melanoma. life is seemingly insignificant, and unpretentious. especially compared to moments with designated camerawoman/man with all the stereotypes in the fucking world on site, even token electrohouse shuffler. so what exactly is my point here? I have none really. Everyone is a voyeur, whether through their eyes, or through facebook, and life is just that little more interesting. Whether you call it gut instinct, psychic abilities, or your total knowledge of the universe, you decide and define. It could land you as a (cyber)troglodyte, the next dalai lama/siddartha or in a mental asylum. Me? I'd prefer to be the object of voyeurism, a sex on the beach in one hand, and a book in the other.
