October 3-October 31, 2015
It would be generous to call it a hypothesis, this in its vague state rife with the unisolated variable. Or rather a cluster of hypotheses. Regarding shared matter. Regarding echoes both historic and material. Regarding what materials can do. Speculative frictions. Speculations on “spooky action at a distance.” Or can we say simply action at a distance, Albert. Admittedly, the thinking is a perversion (“For every action….”) or to be kind, a liberty, but the left turn or crossing of the mind’s eye is rarely unproductive. And let’s be honest, nothing never happens.
And then she heard the word, “lightside.”
Speculations in and on pockets. In space, in time…discrete reservoirs…in which it would be possible, both metaphorically and actually, to breathe freely, where breath is taken to be the root of all that is at once generative and core. Where breathing is a way of thinking, a way of being. Alignment and flow. This was written on the autumnal equinox during the rosemary’s second bloom.
Reading the world; writing the world. Echoes and soundings. The lost and the found.
Micro-levers? It would be appropriate to think about these things as purpose-built, if, in the end, rogue.
What will happen?