0xe113…7f27

All memos sent from and to 0xe113…7f27.

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BbM0qnvPfafFMykW4l38https://ipfs.io/ipfs/QmNv1WPLobShbKMRv15JTSjqevo4rjGFrQH5ymjGxpxyhZ/BbM0qnvPfafFMykW4l38.jsonMetaVerse [Parcel 9 - Surrealist]MetaVerse [Parcel 9 - Surrealist];;; A poem in the metaverse is pink trees; Growing out of printing presses,; Avatars sleeping in tight Bryan Brinkman pants; In cardboard boxes in the moonlight.; A poem in the metaverse is a Fewo painting,; Eyes bulging, upturned, streaming,; Neon lights in a vast, invisible pastoral landscape.; A poem in the metaverse is my pen; Moving through the streets,; Drawing words and song and blood.; A poem in the metaverse comes from Lacan’s Real,; Lives and dreams on 19 Mountain Alley,; On lagging computers and highspeed lifestyles.; We dream awake in the metaverse,; Reciting lines of dreadful poetry,; Typewriters drifting like pink leaves in the wind; As far as the eye can feel.;; Kalen Iwamoto Kalen Iwamoto
BbM0qnvPfafFMykW4l38https://ipfs.io/ipfs/QmNv1WPLobShbKMRv15JTSjqevo4rjGFrQH5ymjGxpxyhZ/BbM0qnvPfafFMykW4l38.jsonMetaVerse [Parcel 9 - Surrealist]MetaVerse [Parcel 9 - Surrealist];;; A poem in the metaverse is pink trees; Growing out of printing presses,; Avatars sleeping in tight Bryan Brinkman pants; In cardboard boxes in the moonlight.; A poem in the metaverse is a Fewo painting,; Eyes bulging, upturned, streaming,; Neon lights in a vast, invisible pastoral landscape.; A poem in the metaverse is my pen; Moving through the streets,; Drawing words and song and blood.; A poem in the metaverse comes from Lacan’s Real,; Lives and dreams on 19 Mountain Alley,; On lagging computers and highspeed lifestyles.; We dream awake in the metaverse,; Reciting lines of dreadful poetry,; Typewriters drifting like pink leaves in the wind; As far as the eye can feel.;; Kalen Iwamoto Kalen Iwamoto
BbM0qnvPfafFMykW4l38https://ipfs.io/ipfs/QmNv1WPLobShbKMRv15JTSjqevo4rjGFrQH5ymjGxpxyhZ/BbM0qnvPfafFMykW4l38.jsonMetaVerse [Parcel 9 - Surrealist]MetaVerse [Parcel 9 - Surrealist];;; A poem in the metaverse is pink trees; Growing out of printing presses,; Avatars sleeping in tight Bryan Brinkman pants; In cardboard boxes in the moonlight.; A poem in the metaverse is a Fewo painting,; Eyes bulging, upturned, streaming,; Neon lights in a vast, invisible pastoral landscape.; A poem in the metaverse is my pen; Moving through the streets,; Drawing words and song and blood.; A poem in the metaverse comes from Lacan’s Real,; Lives and dreams on 19 Mountain Alley,; On lagging computers and highspeed lifestyles.; We dream awake in the metaverse,; Reciting lines of dreadful poetry,; Typewriters drifting like pink leaves in the wind; As far as the eye can feel.;; Kalen Iwamoto Kalen Iwamoto