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.
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.
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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