In Vegas, thoughts are pure. Confronted with moral and temporal ambiguity the mind is finally able to assume clarity. This simplicity first appears at a distance. You don’t realize you are driving into the few most honest blocks in the entire world. You hate this place, pure and simple. But then you are in the middle of it, observing it from every angle your sight allows you to see, and your objections suddenly transform into exaltations. You find that its worth is its perfectly upfront worthlessness. It is entirely devoid of absolutes, and this silence fills the emptiness inside you, connecting you with every other purposeless being beside you. This city fills you with pure, adulterated, simple nothingness. And there is nothing more perfect than that.

4:20 am  •  8 May 2010  •  2 notes