What is this interest in these geometrical shapes that open me to sensations that my logic cannot grasp? What is it that I am trying to see, hear and remember? What sound is it that I am trying to listen to as I look?
The primordial, the essential, void of spurious notions and clutter. The longing for the benevolent and powerful, that essence that shakes me and assures me simultaneously. . It’s the sound I cannot hear because of refrigerators, traffic, buzzing power lines.
My cluttered mind.
It’s the mystery I continuously ignore with the interference of my logic, reasoning and rationalization. It’s the voice embedded in the concrete of that illusion we call time.
UNINTENTIONAL
