BULLETIN 3: CULTURE

What a messy, bloody, capricious business. Is lineage iced, or boarded, or unchecked? It’s said once our frontiers were immutable, or at least once some fathered rhetoric could skate, smooth and slamming, all over our boxy little realm. But exactly when did the lucid rink around our discourse? And for which shift did all our plays lace up with capital? Ever more distant, ever more expansive. Was there ever a simple goal?