Wednesday, 12 November 2008
When one thing leads to another and the first thing dries up, peels off, flakes away; thus with fruit, thus with follaje, thus with wind. Le deuxième oeil, bleu-blanc, voit du vent. Not the agitated contents of the wind but the wind itself. Why the air is moving, why the blossom-end goes punky, why the heart withholds its presence: questions.
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