Japanese student DJ from Tokyo belong to Team CollagE.

booking: thiefrichards(at)gmail(dot)com





There is a a glimpse of truth that reveals itself only in repetition. A cyclical gearset that mirrors infinitely inward and at the same time begets itself ubiquitously throughout space. Each gear is both masterful and useless. Each gear must be spun so it may spin. 

But when does it start? When does it end? Language fails. 

Each thought, idea, word, splash of paint, person, planet, star, or society, each film, law, feeling, force of reason, each change, each new genre and movement, each whisp of misery and every joy, every animal or wall of cellulose falls into this sea of entropic gearshifting. What lives and what doesn't? Are we really bound by syntax? Is nature bound by "laws?"



feverish++ is following