|
|
My life is a chaotic construction. No beginning, no ending construction.
Thought after thought,
action after action,
consequences...
a planned disorderly construction of uncertain facts.every action, every moment contributesto change myself infinitely,indefectible changes. I am thoughts, feelings and perceptions; I absorb and transform everything that comes, goes and passes through myself Change, continuous and inevitable change
Images of myself in others’ image. Photograph of the other, the one that is absorbing and transforming
me.
The other is me and I’m the other, we are only one,only one.... Finding myself, reflection in someone else, is like being me and the
other at once.
Shapes, words,people,everythingfeelings,yourself,perceptions,myself, ...contributes who I am.
Giving you my love is giving it to myself.
Destruction carries destruction because once I am destroying you I am
destroying myself too.
Being selfish is being dead, no way to give, no way to grow, no way
to transform or to be transformed.
I can never be a whole. May be all of us together become close to the idea of whole, but I suppose we can never ever reach the state of wholeness.I am a little portion constructed by little parts. We are in constant change. The whole exists but is recreated every moment. It is a paradox.
Being conscious or not of this change doesn’t make any difference, it does
exist.
Sometimes when my senses are in highly receptive mode, I can feel it, the sound of the change, the sensation of transformation.I can notice what is happening in every little portion, how it moves and changes. These are rare and unique moments that should be kept. ...happy moments to remember,
sad ones to hide in a secret place where to go alone...
Sometimes I feel like a patchwork. My life is pieces of moments, feelings, visions, joined together by
a transparent filament.
We can’t see the unions but I can see the scars, Is a fragile but resistant fabric, it is beautiful and horrible at the same time.I can feel them. How many thing I have in the folds of my patchwork? word, worlds...
Photographs the way others see me. My shadow is the way I see myself.
a mirror without details, my shadow is my fake mirror. an abstraction of my real body.
the familiar and ambiguous,always present,my shadow. My shadow has the shape of my body, but it transform itself into the space, through the space,
traveling through places and making me become part of them.
Through my shadow I became part of the landscape.
My shadow is the unknown blackness of my body . My shadow is ephemeral.
...no light, no life... My shadow is the dead part of my body.
But my shadow behaves like a living organism,
...no light, no shadows or may be a Shapes, feelings andwordsthat live inside my shadow, |