On Psychedelia
by Clifton Gachagua ‘An illuminated dust blows across the vista in the distance, like merriment and confetti at the beginning of a big festival, the beginning of a masquerade, the sick remains of all those lovely childhood dreams, the black river so shinny its light is still travelling back, not nostalgia, no, but tangible light, the green luminescence of rosaries, […]
