The personality of the president penetrates into our lives like cigarette smoke filling up all the rooms of our home, his attitudes jungle animals overtaking the streets. There is no way to keep him at arm’s length. Viscous. Metastacising. If you notice it is a presence traveling slowly but already here to strangle us.
2 thoughts on “1876. the president like weather”
a foul stench,
yet cannot find exterminator
or can’t afford one 😉
Society by becoming entropic, losing meaningful structures, leaves an opening for more random events.