“Time pours from its mouth. We design it a flickering. Here is its desolation. Here it crosses. Here it falls at last. Here it has its full gratification. Here on the yet visible remains. The first. Maybe this gaze. Here, waiting.”
More from Lisa Robertson
“Next to this riot, most human love is wrong and stupid.”
“Now I see that continuity is the revolution.”
“Actual living trees are cinema.”
“My idea of myself relates to landscape's unimagined achievement.”