NOTES TOWARD [Or, HERE ANEW]
Absence can define many things. The negative space of a composition can be. Even your hand when it separates and can’t catch. But still touches. Song that is wanted is still song.
Things can be counted most of the time, such as ideas or times. Thoughts, even distance. But the scales shift and fall from “I”s. Justice, sometimes.
There will be more measurements of light angles. Early winter light on display too briefly. More intensity but farther away. The way of the game–that was questioned as fair play or play. While the panda cub rolled itself down the new snow hills and did not appear to be lonely (in this instance, at least).
It is possible to live inside complexities that no one, aside from you (if even so and “if” being doubtful by its very nature) will understand.
There will be more agenda items to cover, examine, sign off on. Ink is still preferable most times. For some time in the future. For what we could be trying to talk about, not explain– Essentially.
An earlier briefing claimed there is nothing without desire, but really: “will,” a thing that cannot be counted for one “I” in this case. I stole myself. I stole everything. Yes, a thing, a stair, a spoke, a rung, a pivot pin in my face (okay, maybe knee).
When things grow back even more fully, I shall send notification to effective parties so we can add up the math, the meters of snow. The courage of all involved. Who came out of themselves.
There are more things you should know. Standing at the corner of my inner room, you there, “hello.”
At a later date, expect an announcement, something perhaps unequivocal. Haha.
Yes, the dance on the stage built for dreamers, interpretive. Conceptual art at its very best, how strange. What we are– or might become.