THE PERSONAL COSMOLOGY OF SARAH E. SMITH
First there were bodies, before anything else. THere were hills and crotches in the unspoiled land. THere was depth in everything, but perhaps not very much. There were great lakes like vanity mirrors, and electricity ran untamed by circuits or tungsten. Womens' thights grew wildly, unbridled by space or pyrotechnics. All the glorious things in the world began to exist: concept albums, stoplights, white lipstick, an icecube slid between the lips, chocolate mlated milshakes. The light frequency of skin and wet grapes. The patterns of things and costumes from '70s family films, and dark hair and self-awareness followed. Virtually two years after these amazing consequences, Elvis Costello released My Aim Is True and the world, as we know it, began in earnest.
First there were bodies, before anything else. THere were hills and crotches in the unspoiled land. THere was depth in everything, but perhaps not very much. There were great lakes like vanity mirrors, and electricity ran untamed by circuits or tungsten. Womens' thights grew wildly, unbridled by space or pyrotechnics. All the glorious things in the world began to exist: concept albums, stoplights, white lipstick, an icecube slid between the lips, chocolate mlated milshakes. The light frequency of skin and wet grapes. The patterns of things and costumes from '70s family films, and dark hair and self-awareness followed. Virtually two years after these amazing consequences, Elvis Costello released My Aim Is True and the world, as we know it, began in earnest.
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