Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The beginning of any journey is not one end of a line. It is the center of a circle. The complete center, the absolute center, that which engulfs us like water in the ONE ocean that touches ALL shores. Increasingly, I find myself searching for center inside the handicapped washroom facilities. All shores are painted salmon, and I captain a porcelain raft through dark waters—my face lit courtesy Verizon Wireless. I like to imagine all of us together at 10:37—a Navy of Lost Souls shoulder to shoulder waiting for directions that never come, co-ordinates lost or slid under tile. It's the air-force we are hiding from. I just want a moment away from their buzzing propellers and constant motion. I hear them outside the door, obsessing over the price of fuel. Yeah, this is a start.
Posted by Black Box Admin at 1:58 PM