Urban Prose

I recently started something in my head I call Urban Prose. It might be something to consider actualizing, pursuing. I report from the urban landscape, its horrors and alienation, as I walk, sit and watch. There are a thousand things happening even in a quiet street, and a million in one filled with people and machines, with four-wheeled coffins. It feels like a moving painting. The insane modern condition is unfolding and crunching in my head.