It happens one moment.I may have been just up or I may have standing here for hours. Feeling tired now. The mirror shows a thin body. I lean forward to examine my face. Wisdom ends up in measuring scars. One small wound above my eyebrow has an iridescent edge. It gives me no pain now, as I gingerly touch it. It is warmer than I thought it looks, itself seems like a separate entity to me.My eyes reflects the dissolution of happenings. The man in the mirror is a stranger and you step away from him. You decide not to look back. You need a remarkable mind to comprehend this. Without remembering or to continue with this repetition. Through it I go forth from myself. My image is near to me and in the same time I am always searching for it. Trying to stay. Wanting to stay. I know how rapid the vanishing goes. Holding on to this momentary existence, which will crumble away. It's funny. I can see everything, more than before. But I can't see myself, neither do people. They tend to be restless in my company, looking away into the distance during conversation. Freeze the scene into a still, then abstract myself like a cut-out photo. Glad to see it all go, in a way. I have all these little theories. I'm still learning, I know that. I don't feel like I've wasted time, If I had to go again. There is a moment of silence during in which I deliberately ignores the presence of everything. Because there is nothing else... my brief life is nothing but altered architecture of events, illustrated façades, spaces between cars, birds overs buildings, memories, renovations, versions. Living this way, one is always "recovering".
I read my notes, between the lines and I just do not get it. It just don't make sense at all.
Naturally things cannot fit together this way But in my opinion something has been achieved which so closely approximates the truth that make our living and our dying easier. Life is more than a Chinese puzzle. I realize that. This is my part of the cycle of things. Everything is something it isn't and everybody is always somewhere else. Life is not really like you see it. It is fugitive. Once it begins, it unfolds in a chaos. There is this white light and I look at it. Is it really out there. The emptiness is a mirror turned towards my own existence. For now I want to stay. Waiting at something else to go differently. It doesn't matter. I've clung to it.
- I've clung to the current traversing waves of blankness, lost in time. You know, at one time I think it would be good simply to watch people. Be an impassive camera eye. Of course, soon after I am able to just that, I lose the desire. I suppose because their reasons for doing everything are predicated on needs and fears I can no longer share.Instead I've grown a fascination for something else, something of real relevance to me. There is a place inside me. I remember it now, just as I did when I was five and catching the waves with my hands. I remember, but was not aware of the affection that was coming my way. Trust me, I did not forget that place and I'm not ready to let it go just yet. Trying to stay.
He says, She says kind words, the sweetest oneClose up
A female mouth
That's all I've wanted - to walk in such a place with you-
