Παρασκευή, 18 Φεβρουαρίου 2011

When you are looking for something, everything depends……

Usually it’s related to what you’re looking for. Many times it isn’t. Depends so utterly much.
You are sorry to be right; you are equally sorry to be wrong too, but with only one exception: you are always sorry to be wrong but if you are right in the wrong occasion it’s too painful to endure. And you so often are. Aren’t you?
There‘s a point in time when you start preferring being wrong. That point always comes AFTER. After depends on a previous after that isn’t quite a before. Not yet, anyhow. The past creates itself from the present in a blurry future. 
Colors everywhere, sketching the shapes, carving in stone and burning in leather.
It’ a kind of trademark. A tool of remembrance.
Art primarily is. A landmark in time.
So you keep on remembering, you keep on being willingly wrong and you rest in the arms of art creating a new religion or a well shaped curse, hoping that it will go on for generations like a schooner above the ocean’s ink driven by the breeze। Now sleep. And dream. Disappear and vanish. 
The time has come.

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