[text ID: Take a body, dump it, drive. Take a body, maybe your own, and dump it gently. All your dead, unfinished selves and dump them gently. Take only what you need. /end ID]
[text ID: Something has happened in the paint tonight and it is worth keeping. It’s nothing like I thought it would be and closer to what I meant. /end ID]
[text ID: Paint ghosts over everything, the sadness of everything. We made ourselves cold. /end ID]
[text ID: All this was prepared for me. All this was set in motion long ago. I live in someone else’s future. /end ID]
[text ID: What can you learn from your opponent? More than you think. Who will master this love? Love might be the wrong word. /end ID]
[text ID: When she saw herself, finished, she said, It doesn’t look like me. Picasso said, It will. Perhaps it will look like her because it is the document and will remain, while she is just a person who will fade. Now, when we think of her, we think of this painting. Picasso was planning ahead. The painting is evidence but not proof. There’s no proof that she looked like that, even though we have the document. She existed enough to be painted. She could have been an idea, but that’s another kind of existing. /end ID]