The key is dust pretending. It holds you, the world turns, and you're through.
The door you believed was opened is a theatrical prop.
You partition what is real,
but not from itself.
Dust generates form after form.
Manifest, unchanging?
Only obstinate fear,
Inessential.
DIARY, 31.11.23
“I have little expectation that my translation is truly accurate. How can I? My layman’s grasp is firm, certainly. No-one can dispute my devotional commitment to self-sacrifice; I’ve fed untold hour after hour into the project. But tonight, as the inscrutable wind tickles at the tips of leaves unseen, my armchair offers no comfort.”
THE TABLET (and how it was found):
FEZ (‘22)
No thanks, like nighcaps, I don’t wear one! A churlish thought indeed when I had the chance to travel on another’s dollar.
They insisted and so I found myself baulking by the tanning quarter in the ancient city.
I took refuge in a trader’s alcove. From the scorching heat and wild hues.
After reciprocal pleasantries, my eyes were drawn to a small, stone tablet. And after 3 weeks of playful haggling…IT WAS MINE!
‘part the second’ COMING SOON…
Until then
Always so immersive to read, I feel like my mind is contented as I scroll through unique sections: wonderful poetry, then a thought provoking picture, scroll past to a reflection written in italic etc. Reminds me of kaiyū-shiki, the aesthetic partitioning to capture the vibe of different areas in Japanese gardens
Zen garden? Now you're talking.