You dwellers of random keywords, led by cobalt stem cells from Dr Benway, gazing at trip-hop and dark train surroundings, you've reached the station where Stéphane Roux once was. There's an hotel-motel, sequels, victims and pixels escalate in thousand unities. It's about nihilism and the lack of it inflitrated in my free online book, The not-being. Millions of pixels are some sort of visual blog that may be title The not-seeing, in the end. Welcome to Islam Inc.Vous, chasseurs de mots-clés aléatoires, attisés par l'odeur des cellules souches couleur cobalt du Dr Benway, écoutant du trip-hop sur les larges avenues, vous avez atteint la station où était Stéphane Roux. Il y a un hotel-motel, des restes, beaucoup de déchets et de victimes, des pixels et des mots par milliers. On parle nihilisme et son absence, ab sens, le non-être. Un journal visuel ou pas grand chose de plus de ce qui restera sur terre de lui. Bienvenu à Islam Inc.
stars1999-04-17
easy, i'll never reach out to the surface. it happens everyday for all of them, but i don't stand the slightest chance. the number readers believe in the former, i trust the present with remorse. it's like metal on ice without the reverb by the way i stare to the fading lights from the city. down low in the echo, the stars are falling and drowning, while the moon joins a nasty constellation. hard as hell, sweet as candy, we reverse the flow against the leaders of the new school of labour and back up forces from repetition. they drive way out of the stream, changing spheres and squares, while we ask for a smoke to strike. we shall be gone by now. score the pulse, embrace the first in the last lane, begging for love, weeping for tears to cry. now spinning the only one that matters because of you and your masses of born again selfish end consumers. game on, over the border, full time student with parents and relatives inside the elite. now we crawl underwatter, diving for pearls, digging for gold, asking for words, dividing worlds. constant week-end, living off the edge, ace of brown ice plates off shores, changing coulours to a darker shade but we don't care about us seeds trown by the window clicker by path erection of temples in templates like creatures of doom and dawn collapsing in raw series of dreams without rest for the eyes staring in the emptiness of perspectives if they find the key to match their beats we rock harder but noise is a defeat in the land of paradygm shifts we stand and oppose but end is nearer than me get while you can a visual condom as you don't need more than a single unit lost in space in the box trading satellites for stars in a fake way to multiply baken words we all know the price raw powder no way back i'm a slug nor a frog i was guilty and sentenced not hard enough settle out of court depth assault moral vault we charge and then we fall city view from taxi world how does she feel next to who in time or him in asphalt dog we fly until winter in the stream with ice in her gloves in strong arms the end is near for me so cry while i can in silence with raiders and new school players coming in layers this time around there's no revenge the keyboard is the medium ping the phone system they know the method lately i survive the crisis the whole picture in thumbs the ocean in a bottle falling asleep with drums surrounding uncooking the streams for the fighter on the other side of the tracks we please self control and rise and the price to party we run but it's not enough the key a message her signal above the rain 
The beat goes on and on but one question remains : :
Where am I ?
