A homing jet crosses the sky, the sky of knowing, the changeless state…


Old photographs have an abiding fascination – to burn – to send flying – to…
There are four kinds of astrological calculation: nothing is born, nothing stops, get time on your side.
Before the sit-in crumbled they arrested one of their own counter-intelligence agents – this was not, of course, a mainstream Lumiere Brothers image of the envisaged target.
Two ‘desperate’ and ‘dangerous’ gunmen, perched eighty feet up a gas rig surrendered a court affidavit – a practical application of ferocity and malevolence – the imprecations of twenty thousand wild gods, a student – pretty face, shining intelligence – a psychiatric nurse and a supermarket cashier – all living in Avignon – get time on your side.
It was said: he poured out his ‘personal, professional and financial problems’ to a CB radio link,
cleansing his own body of impure influences – fifth-rate kung-fu or sex films, continuing nightmares of Enlightenment – to tranquillise the obstructions of the Titans…a homing jet crosses the sky.


Nothing is born, nothing stops.
Image the envisaged target.
His figure is wreathed in extreme notions of eternity and nihilism.
“We don’t want violence so we are moving off!” they said.
They are ‘desperate’ men.
On Monday twelve members of the public went to the aid of the occupation – with a population of fifteen hundred one might wonder…
Sources said they may have been sexually involved, they may have been repossessed – get time on your side.
Play a woman, not a man in drag.
Each eunuch compensates for his vulnerability.
Manifest yourself at the ceremonies.
Traverse the threefold visual world, searching out constructively ‘non-constructive’ locations.
We believe what may have happened was reaction to independent scaffold deaths – a man collapsed –a homing jet crosses the sky – fans kept at bay – floods and gas threaten baton-wielding policemen – troops monitor banking fiasco – roof-falls block normal flow – nothing stops thought-crime or imprisonment at the entranceway of unrecognised time. Coastguards stay away – we are moving off – we may have been repossessed.
Stay away.


Quiet, elegant, civilised, a colourless skirt crazy Renta Softee meets miracle cargo from the North of England – greying, hunched, old men – he agrees to draw the pleasure boat Hamburg under his challenge:
This paper recovered his equilibrium – purist critics with proper colours, gestures and adornments practice five kinds of worship – a velvet fist, a velvet glove. Torrid zone; oh yeah.
I don’t claim to know the answers, professor, I just try to face facts.
The arrival, in rapid succession, of darker areas of this earthly domain of place and circumstance resembles the sickness of time – make sure you ally yourself with the masses in ‘liberation wars’ – even resorting to the use of ‘one more game’.
The document NOT SO FAR suggests all things are possible, even the ‘sickness of time’.
So very ‘right’, with its sombre chants of recognisable signs, their duality will attain perfection, converting all living beings into cinematic taxidermists, or gangster’s widows robbed of their greatest strength.
Sky and space play as one – greying hunched old men have an abiding fascination – even the sickness of time – tranquillise the Titans – image envisaged target – man collapsed – moving off…


The tenth and eleventh games were teasing moves – anticipating an attack – just try to face facts.
Reeling after two successive defeats a few decades ago, the ninth game started – fans kept at bay.
The Power of the Eye is the dress of flesh-eating beasts, figures materialise as if made of gems and gold – make a killing, vast and resonant – imaged target crosses the sky – target image attains perfection, moving off.
But this is only the first departure from realistic places of evil and rebirth.
Another part of the movement’s alleged ‘philosophy’ – the ‘final compromise’ is ‘on trial’ for ‘errors’. Articles for coercing the divinity after thirty years hindsight pass back and forth oblivious of the scene.
Interwoven loops, crossed threads, female effigies, special powers, the dark blackness of ignorance, sky and space made of gold, old photographs, places of evil and rebirth, places of evil rebirth.
Close study shows no room for doubt, photograph albums and the like – the dress of flesh-eating beasts resembles the sickness of time.
Sombre chants – man collapsed – own counter-intelligence – the Grand Masters have exceeded their powers – figures materialise and move off.


London, June 1939: fleeing from drought, a group of peasants reluctantly attracted to Paul’s mother Mary, are involved at all levels…
Please tell me more with all the intimist trappings of a TV drama.
So, professor…now there’s a small communications system – high speed facsimile photographs image the perfect target, his father, furniture and other effects.
As filigree paintings explode with insight and alienation effects, you miss the way of salvation unless you transfer to a higher vehicle such as police interrogation.
A hermetic world of cinematic art?
Did you encourage him?
Did you learn non-avoidance?
Did you encourage him?
That impression is without foundation.
Did you encourage him?
Come on, come on.
The document agreed yesterday lacks the doctrinal line as it is digital and electronic.
It contains demons, heretics, monsters and so on. Practice the psychic skills to bring saturated colours and different scenes shot by your better selves parallel to the Five New Evils:
One showing a textual recitation.
One showing a white lion.
One showing Space with Rays.
One showing the final acts of earlier films.
One showing lakes and islands.
Can such things be?


Clash between behaviour and language in 1970-1975, when all the greying old standards applied.
The narrative effects searching for a structural principle (not so far/get time on your side) were unforgettable and uniquely important chronicles of the Outer World, amply purified in a process of deepening isolation.
We see his father, furniture and other effects. We see figures wreathed in the intimist trappings of desperate, greying, old TV dramas – a very sensitive instrument.
Full marks to the student – with her pretty face and shining intelligence – who cried in undoubted distress and embarrassment – nothing escapes the eagle eye of our client – at the sickness of time.
Even now it may be too late – did you encourage him?
They are ‘desperate’ – nothing stops impure influences.
Can such things be? I shudder to think.
Photos of greying, hunched old men exert a fascination – face facts, professor – burn yourself at the ceremonies as a homing jet crosses the dark blackness of ignorance.
Close study shows target.


Baton-wielding policemen threaten greying, hunched old men – their better selves don’t believe it – I shudder to think about other matters – can they honestly swallow it?
Nothing, nothing…
Our information is based on the Ladies Literary Society, an unlikely location for a slide towards anarchy, or tactics for winning a step back from the abyss.
Sombre chants of recognisable signs combat the sickness of time.
Meanwhile a desperate figure –a colourless Peruvian bishop in the dress of a flesh-eating beast – threatens the Outer World, a psychiatric nurse and a supermarket cashier with extreme notions of eternity and nihilism – a very sensitive instrument.
Desperate, hunched, old men eighty feet up on a gas rig slide towards reality, even the abyss – nothing escapes Nothing – consecrate the deceased; envisage imaged target.
Get time on your side.
A homing jet crosses the sky, the sky of knowing, the changeless state.




A C Evans

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