Stuff that oozes, creeps, falls, breaks off, jumps away from what is intended; material that (just barely) falls out of step.

Two shadowy figures meet. Are they conjurers of black magic, quietly provoking the natural world, or simply engaged in some private fetish play?

"Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore..."

My hotel room is perched at the intersection of two freeways, and, with the window open to let in the hot summer air, I can hear the comforting hum of traffic.

[15:55] Alan Dojoji: Julu this is an experiment. No one loves us any more. I saw it in their eyes on the subway. Do you know the subway?

4. Standing by the fireplace, Todd Many Goats has my mother shower in ash. Tarajean walks her slowly to the bathroom, removing each article of clothing...