we arrive late.
we are big fish and little fish swimming in the water.
we are tide, we are wave. we are ocean and current. we are seasons.
a tide could come and sweep us away as if we are seashell or starfish or the voice of a child.
the sand could move in some direction, closer to the sun or into the depths of the ocean floor, further into darkness, only to rise again in the next swell of time.
we seek to match time, as if generating lines across the surface of the planet will make life more clear rather than feel finite.
we track across the passage of light, following the daily rotation, mercurial acid in a thermometer, bread in a bubble that will rise. tossed into the riptide with no shore in sight. clinging to our certainty like a dolphin underneath the horizon.
it’s not clear what will happen yet. the end might loom close, as if a candle, flickering feels in motion. all at once alive in some places and a memory in others.
we can find ourselves returning to the same generation that was once a vision in the past or future only to understand there is something we now know that makes us all the more energized to face the dragon, become its friend, stoke the fire.
where would we be without the challenge, an arena to try?
embracing ourselves when there is strength and fortitude, for life is a misunderstanding between two entities who made up a lie.
forces pull you like a view out of a window, a column. the feedback loop of bodies moving repeatedly through a space create space. like a flower’s scent drawing you closer or making you pause, placing you more completely in the present moment…
we seek to embody our place (environment) and time, immersed in currents.
