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This project began as an act of desperation. In June of 2015, my life felt stagnant: no writing, not much in the way of music, with only photography to keep me alive, and even that seemed pointless. Any act of creation was an effort, a slog. So I traveled north, towards friends who lived in a place of redwoods where the ragged shores are battered by the constant sea, and I returned with an intention. My resources remained precious, and few. But I realized that all it takes to render a momentary decrease in local entropy is the creation of one thing, just one small thing, that has never existed before.

from words on torn paper: Specificity

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