i love texture. a cough. smoke. a dollar in my pocket.
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the conversation of inarticulates may consistently say more than articulate forms.
it is not you, it is me. it is not me, it is we. it is not we, it is us. it is not us it is all. it is not all, it is continuum.
everything is the individual is everything. where does one element begin or end? perception and perspective seem to dictate this. “science proves...” – science proves? . . . what? what does “it” prove? in the asking and breaking down of your own experiences and knowledge is to invite balance back into the constructs of the human intellectual dynamic. it is not “second guessing” it is “offering perspective through reflection” through questioning and wonder, through discovery and temporal answerings.
i very well may be “allergic” to sterility, clean, same.
familiar does not necessarily mean similar.
comfort may come from instability, unfamiliar, unconventional, uncomforts.
ganas
- gan
- i am an interpreter and indication of the gatherings in my life. my collection of influences, and experiences, and wanderings, and figurings. i am a current of reflection yearning for connection. i am compelled and commanded to do so by my own accordion. playing it's off-tunes and rhythmic swoons i am dancing to the passing moment. all at once and individually rapt. i am continual appreciation of the process and movement of life. i am most interested in the details of culture and life-byproducts, the wear and tear of existence. human-fantastic is a great show. i am highly enamoured with seeing through things or of hidden sources of movement or sound. knowing you know is where i'm most ticklish.
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