“My Eyes, My Eyes, My Eyes” by Donald Zagardo

A trend is a law that has yet to hatch, to become, turned to steel. Lucky children with hormonal madness incline toward trend, but I am an adult. I worry as an adult would, about silly things, like trends becoming laws. How handy it will be, how much fun, how rude to have tiny cameras in one’s head instead of eyes. For the world to see right through and record for posterity, every sight and sound, one would assume. Michel Foucault one hundred years ago would have adored the idea, but not really adored. Each man a prisoner, a jailer, … Continue reading “My Eyes, My Eyes, My Eyes” by Donald Zagardo