i know you told me you was sorry
i know you told me you was alone
but i got right in that vessel
and kept on down that road
and i came to get back x3
that time i can't get back
i know you alone though
i know you were wrong though
and i did you wrong though
and i did you wrong
oh
i did you wrong
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2016, Mojo's Studio, East Williamsburg.
A projection flickers against the walls, the glow of something half-built, something alive in its own way. The A Ü T O/M Ö T O R project had consumed everything—time, energy, entire seasons slipping past unnoticed.
NEW INC had given him the space to create, to push forward, to design something bigger than himself—but at what cost?
vyle. stands in the projection studio of Mojo, a revered member of the A/M team, the rest of them scattered around the space—some in deep conversation, some watching the visuals loop, some lost in their own thoughts. The work has been relentless.
But tonight, something different is sitting heavy in the air.
A reckoning. A deconstruction.
vyle. lets the thoughts come in full force—the years spent inside this project, the days given over completely, the nights where the only thing that mattered was pushing it forward.
And then, the realization that follows just as quickly—what he left behind to do it.
The calls he didn't return.
The love he let fade.
The city that needed his voice, his presence, when it was shifting, burning, becoming something new.
He had stayed on that road, kept moving forward even when the weight of absence pressed against him.
And now, standing here, in the dim glow of the projection studio, he knows one thing for certain—
That time—he can't get back.
But he's gonna get back.
One way or another.
Dedicated to Mark Alan Johnson aka Mojo