During a rather dark and reclusive stretch of my life, this Jenny Holzer postcard always sat on my desk next to my laptop. I used it as a talisman (and judging by the drink rings also as a coaster), focusing my paranoid fancies onto something external and benign while I stared deep into the abyss. The casual, moderate voice normalized grand delusions into everyday occurrences.
To this day, when the days get short and the nights get cold, I wake to find myself repeating the phrase to myself. A mantra to get me through the morning dread.
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