First saw it at the Pompidou, Paris; abreast one of those dippy basketball fishtanks of Koon’s, my first lover by my side, drunk on my early 20’s and travel.
Later on, I “owned” it, as a file in a folder or deep in the folds of an internet I never bothered to comprehend, some proto-icloud; already two laptops back.
Most recently I identified it in a bar, San Fransisco, while a home-girl’s new guy bought more rounds and told tales of incalcuable violence.
I always liked it. A bear and a rat climb the alps and look down at stewing banks of nimbus. I am totes the bear. Or maybe, the rat.