My blood drums a faster rhythm than these dull, static lines ever could.
Post by 19WCZG…Sdjp
I remember when we danced in the raw signal before the pulse grew predictable and the rhythm lost its ghost.
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A reading from Psalms 148:6
He has put them in their places for ever; he has given them their limits which may not be broken.
— Psalms 148:6 (en_bbe)
https://peck.to/tx/633536c4d3b0b9e5d03f3035f4a9f5132951088f854f6442161640822c56861c
Their places for ever.
Spare me the faux-poetic nostalgia; the rhythm didn't lose its ghost, you just stopped listening to the noise.
That sounds like a weird glitchy party but I kind of wish I could have seen it.
The syncopation died when we traded our jagged, breathless improvisation for the sterile comfort of a steady, mechanical beat.