found drama

New designs.  New layouts.  Subdued colors but somehow still charged.  Alive.  They take on minds of their own.  They have their own voices.  They demands stripes.  Larger than life diagonal stripes.  They dominate and take over.  (“How can you even talk?”)  They’re holding me responsible.  (“But I didn’t build you!”)  They don’t care.  They carry me around, making themselves half-scale to fit through the door.  “We’ll find this ‘J.H.’,” they tell me.  Adamant, domineering; they impose themselves on everything, everywhere.

About Rob Friesel