|
We work around each other. Avoiding all
possible confrontations, we get through our
days. This is somehow all we have left living
for – not to get entangled any more. We wish to
droop our eyes, hang our heads, drop to our
knees. In peace…. We practise further retreat.
Make more corners out of corners. Mice have
deserted us.
These fourteen steps to
nowhere reveal the dark blood running through
the arteries of modern life, the nausea of
survival redeemed only by the residual scent of
love.
Nameless travellers on
nameless journeys arrive here, after all,
to this moment, and the “extreme
vulnerability of the instant makes it big enough
for all our lives….” |
