Minutes later, O’Brien is still attempting to describe Fleming, and he eventually lands on the image of “the goop that’s inside a lava lamp.” Fleming’s work is a hyperspecific, manic, digressive ...
Lava. Lasers. Tung Tung. One second you’re standing safely on solid ground, the next you’re dodging alien ships, lava floods, and the legendary wrath of Tung Tung Tung Sahur and Tralalelo Tralala.
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