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Thread: The Planet Walk

  1. #1
    Registered User FREI's Avatar
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    The Planet Walk

    Hello Forum Friends (and Happy Easter, those of you who 'do' Easter; everyone else: Happy Season, Whatever it May Be for You!)

    A little while ago I began posting a narrative to this forum with a very slow, near-absent plot, which was meant to start to make sense over time and slot in with some other work I'd done (some of which also appeared on here). This met with fierce opprobrium from one member here, and I was so taken aback I thought I'm probably in the wrong place with this kind of thing. So I paused that story and stopped posting anything for a few weeks because I don't really want to (nor do I want to have to) argue about or defend my writing, I'm just happy to share it in case anybody finds anything in it that speaks to them. Still, I was travelling for a bit, and now looking back at that little episode I reckon I may well have overreacted, it was, after all, just one reader who simply didn't like what I'd written.

    So what I'm about to start posting now comes with a BIG CAVEAT: The Planet Walk is really not so much of a story as an exploration. Like The Snowflake Collector, The Ice King, Pyromania, and the half-abandoned, half-stalled Revival referred to above, it forms part of an ongoing experimental online publishing project called EDEN by FREI, but unlike The Snowflake Collector, for example, which is a 'proper' traditionally structured story with a central character and a beginning, a middle and an end, The Planet Walk has none of these.

    So: I offer it here in the spirit of sharing and communion. It may not be your cup of tea. If that's the case, fair enough. Just hit the back button or some other link and stop reading it. You may find it hard going, fair enough. If you relish a bit of a challenge, you might just like to persevere, but if you don't: there's another story by someone else just a click away. If it raises any questions or if you have any comments that are in some way or other constructive, or if you find a spelling mistake (you may and will find some unusual, as in hitherto 'non-existent' vocabulary...) Ė I welcome your communication. But if it causes you pain: please don't feel obliged to read on. Just shut the computer and pick up a good book.

    That said: if it is your cup of tea, or a taste you think you could (or could wish to try in parts to) acquire: enjoy...

    LOVE & PEACE
    FREI

  2. #2
    Registered User FREI's Avatar
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    Neptune

    i whirl within the wherefores of my wonder

    still coming at me are the shooting stars, the comets, the debris

    celestial collisions

    i am at home here, though my longing knows no boundaries now no aim, knows no

    deliverance from thought, from search for meaning

    would my soul took over

    would my skin shirked not the touch, would i felt this fear of losing were not real, this

    holding on, this

    need for explanations, this

    reluctance

    ever to surrender to what is: what is this if not ice not gas not water and not energy, what is

    the reason reason holds me

    holds me in or back, then back from what, back where, back to what end?

    is there an end?

    thereís no beginning, then how is there

    reason?


    I sit on the edge of the solar system, invisible. Iím known to exist, but nobody sees me. I think I see them, from a distance. Through a haze. I can't be sure. Twinkles, here and there, allover really: wondrous.

    I have, inadvertently, become a god. This is both puzzling and absurd: those powers they invest in me are merely mythical. I am not even drawn to water, not as other people are. Some see the sea and jump right in. I donít. I am content to sit there, pondering. Until the time comes. Until Iím ready. Until I feel the need. Until curiosity gets the better of me. Or temptation. Or just the wanting to have been in the water before going home. Not so much the desire to be in the water as the desire to not not have been in the water at all. For a moment. Or two. With the lover, the dolphins, the mermaids, the waves and the fishes. The other gods. The propensity to ponder. It may be an affliction; but why not. ĎWhy not?í seems to be the overriding question. Is it a question?

    I walk from my planet towards the sun through the snow, falling, falling. I love the snow falling on my face as I look up at the sky at the space at the universe the aboveness and the aroundness of it all, and the path ahead is white and clear and thereís no-one about. Of course not, Iím alone. Alone on the edge of the universe. A pang of love, a moment of pain. Love for whom? Pain for what? A special one now, this time, really? A sense of myself, now, really? Or of the idea of myself. Of The Concept. The Unreality. I like my reality right now, I can deal with it, I can live up to it, make sense of it, or so I tell myself, knowing it not to be true, not entirely. I walk, steadily Ė not fast, not slow Ė along the path of the planets thinking myself Neptune. I am not a planet. I am not a god. I am not a myth. I feel millions of miles away from the allness of it all but I'm about to dissolve into it and this thrills me. Is that a lonely path I walk or is it just deserted. Because it's late. Because itís out of season. Because it normally is, around now. Is it too late? This turns into a portentous question all of a sudden. Am I too far along the path, do I circle too slowly; but we know, we know, we are not planets, we are not rivers, we are barely human. We are human. So bare though, so vulnerable, so thoughtful, so cautious, so hesitant, so barely capable. So barely willing to survive. Yet surviving. Thriving, even, yet, against the odds. So gentle. So soft. So curly, the hair. So even the teeth. So tender the lips. So lovely the legs. So quirkily satin the belly button. So elegant the fingers. So delicate the eyelashes. So warm, so warm the chest. So fleeting, so insubstantial as I walk under fir trees and the snow they are clothed in, so bare, so wrapped up in my delusion, my reading the signs that arenít there, my wanting it all to be and to mean something. Wanting it all. To mean. Something.

    I take pictures of the snow so I can send them to him though I donít even know if he wants to look at the snow through my lens through my eyes through the synapses in my brain that miss him, but I know he has never seen snow for real and I want to show it to him. His mind is not here any more than is his body. What of his soul? It sits right in me. He would love the snow, I know, if he saw it for real. If he were with me now. If we were insubstantial now in the snow together, seeping into the ground. I know these things. I now know them all and they all make sense and they will come to pass and it all just needs time to arrange itself now. I want to be sure. I missed Uranus on my journey, I realise, as I get to Saturn, wondering why that took so long, and I donít mind. Thereís an irony in this, but it is not a metaphor, not even a pun. Not a sign. It's a coincidence. Sometimes you just miss a planet, thatís all.

    Iíd decided to surrender, to go with the flow, just to be. Iím calm at the thought, now, at ease. I feel a greater certainty than ever before, but Iím not sure about what. Just about. And I know I donít need to investigate this, I donít need to probe. I donít need to understand, because I already know.

    I donít want to be the one any more who longs. I donít want to be the one any more who pines and freezes. The one made of ice. And rocks. Enveloped in abundant gases. Who errs on the side of reason, out of sight, out of mind, out of being. I want to thaw and to melt and to meld with the one and to bloom and to lose myself in the all and to be.

    And so I walk on, sunward.




    From EDEN by FREI

  3. #3
    Jai Keshava NikolaiI's Avatar
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    It is great - thank you for sharing!

    A salt doll went to measure the depth of the ocean..

    There are two kinds of beings - frozen and unfrozen.

  4. #4
    Jai Keshava NikolaiI's Avatar
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    Most of Vera Pavlova's comments about poetry apply for me, too.

    Your writing is appreciated.

  5. #5
    Registered User FREI's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by NikolaiI View Post

    Your writing is appreciated.
    Thank you so much, Nikolai, this is most generous of you, and kind!

    All the very best

  6. #6
    Registered User FREI's Avatar
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    Jupiter

    I shall return to Saturn. I'll not ignore it, not have passed it, unawed by its majesty. Unwondered by its spheres. Unswayed. It sways me, Saturn; but not now. Now I am drawn on further, down Ė not down, across Ė the path: the gravitation is too strong, its presence too immense, I must succumb to Jupiter. For a moment. For a while. For an eternity that lasts a fraction of a thought. For a whirl of a gas storm. For a communion. With Callisto. Io, Ganymede. Europa. These friends I have not met. These habitations. These absorptions. Thoughts. Sensations. My body, more than my spirit, attracts them and they me. We enter each otherís orbits, and dance. Moons they may be, mere satellites to a planet all of their own, but I enjoy them, their company, their zest, their life. Their juvenation. I visit them, they me. We journey not together, we relish the here. The nowness of it all. It is not mere. Have I not longed so long to be in the now?

    This here is good, I like it, though it will not, doesnít have to, last. The mightiness that overshadows us encumbers us not: we are not oblivious, but we donít care: choose not to be intimidated by this massiveness, this bold inelegance. The world right now, that world that is not this world and that is this world still though we may never wish it so, it bears great force, great danger, anger too. But not for us. We delicate ourselves out of its artless rage. We are not like that. Are not of it. It not of us.

    I no longer feel the need to explain myself and I no longer long for the need to be free. I am free, now, having got this far, and I relish that freedom more than I treasure my life. I am not Jupiter, nor ever want to be. That bulk, that pompousness. That body of hot air covered in cold. That implacability. That dehumanising fervour. And yet, these satellites, seductive with their charm. Iím glad I came here. Happy to have paused. Iíve long abandoned the idea of destination. These are sojourns on a celestial perambulation. How privileged I am. How powerful. How small. Here, seeing Jupiter be big, be brash though not beguiling, I believe my time has come. This is not new, Iíd thought on one or two occasions once or twice before I felt the tug above my wings but here I realise my strength is not outwith. You may be one and a half score septillion times the size of me, but you are no match to my mind. You have the mass; the sun has all the power: I have the intellect. To survive. To discern. To accommodate myself in this universe, or any other. To thrive.

    I launder my library of references by adding experience. The hunger to live. The need to swallow. The acceptance of millions of potentialities in one go. The taste and the texture. A slither of hope, of forbearing of premonition. A spark of the imagination. A tenderness, returned. And wanted. Handsomenesses. No warriors, these, no battle axe ire, no strategy and no plan. No tactics. No goal. A glorious swim in the sea, a pool of tadpoles of random configurations, a swirl in the mind of the gods. Ye gods. Ye godlinesses. Ye buds of brimming boisterousness. Ye flowers and sparks. Ye spermly waggers of tails. Ye lusciousnesses. Ye beetrootjuiceredvoluptuousness. Ye inspiration.

    Ye words.

    Saturn calls me back, I know. Iíll have to detour there, a loop. This Jupiter wilfulness cannot last. I feel for Ganymede, I feel for Europa. Ye Kepler-452b. I feel for you too. I feel for my brother who is writing these words in a universe just like ours only different, having acceded that thatís what heís doing without knowing why. I feel for my coccyx, I feel for you. I feel for you and I sense you are there and I feel strongly for a new love a new warmth a new glow a new smile a new touch of a new hand a new face and new dimples a new tuft of hair and a belly button, a new mind a new generous heart, on the horizon. Where is the horizon, in space, in the orbit of Jupiter, near one of his moons? I baffle myself into submission and accept the reality as it is though I know full well that there is no such thing and there is no such thing as necessity, distance, perspective or pain. There is pain, it is felt, it is lived. Does it have to be, ever? It need not be celebrated quite so. There is no hate, it is an illusion, and there is no anger, it disappears. There is there is there is love.

    I like that thought and take comfort in it although I canít prove it, and I think of my new love on the horizon whom I havenít yet met. Literally, have not yet met. We know each other, we are in communication, we are getting closer all the time, but the thrill of the unknown persists and we both hold on to it a while longer not because we want to but because we want to believe that we must. So we must. So we do. Weíre pragmatic like that, and we have lives to live. So we think, so we hope, so we trust.

    I salute Jupiter for all his preposterousness and kiss each of his moons farewell. Iím not sure I need to come back here: this was good, this was fun, this was excellent, while it lasted. But possibly, probably, for me, it has now run its course. I bid thee farewell, most mighty of planets: you have been, I know, quite misunderstood. But donít worry, my gaseous friend, for so have we allÖ




    From EDEN by FREI

  7. #7
    Registered User FREI's Avatar
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    Mercury

    My mentality makes me leap as close to the sun as I may without being burnt, without floating adrift, without losing my sense of belonging, if not here, if not there, then in the universalness of it all. There is something wondrous about being me, still, at this age, at this point, which is never a point only but always a wave just as much, at this juncture which is never a coming together only but always as much a moving apart, through this phase which is never as much a beginning as it is also an ending only more so which means it just is; there is intemperance, folly, wisdom and wit to be found where there's light and there's the mischief of knowledge: am I really just information?

    Here on Mercury where a day lasts a couple of years at least by perception my mind is blasted by solar winds and I take hold of my wand meaning to keep it. The power to lull the awake into sleep, to awaken those lost to slumber, to ease the agony of the dying and to quicken the dead. The quickness, the quirkinesses, the quintessentialness of it all. I race around the sun looking out into space and enjoy the ride more than ever I did before. How come youth arrives at an age when it is all but gone? How come it happens twice? The first time with no experience on the fabric of sensations to handle it well, the second time with said fabric so worn that it feels all but threadbare? Will there be a third instance, maybe a fourth? Is it necessary, possible, even, to count? My braincells refuse to collapse and my curiosity gets the better of me, so I keep carving open new synapses firing new thoughts into a continuum that is already awash with ideas.*

    No time, no space, no respite, no rest, no melancholy here, no decay: this iron is liquid is hot is alive with pure energy, not organic, not systemic, not caustic, not quiet, not loud: effervescent in its potentialities. This place may be small but its capacity to astonish is great, nay unlimited, nay infinite and profound. Can lovers be friends? Can pleasures bedevil the heart that has grown to be kind? Can connections be the meaningfulness of it all? The essentiality? The reason? The cause? The spark and the fire but also the balm? Can this toxicity heal as well as inspire? Can this generosity of spirit ask more than questions? What is there beyond the surprise, the delirium, at having recognised I am able to speak? Am I the medium or the message or merely the conduit? Would I mind if I knew, could I know if I cared?

    There are now too many possibilities too many strands too many fluctuations and too many rotations, too many rupes that like laugh lines adorn me for me to worry: care I may, yes, and consider; learn I can, and communicate, lend a gentle ear, sometimes, and a generous eye and embrace the love that is not mere emotion but more than instinct is intellect and say yes: I comprehend. Not understand, perhaps, not everything, yet, quite possibly not ever – things move so fast, so all over – but I can take it all in. I can be it all. I can be little and insignificant and still mean the multiverse. That's just what I wanted to sense. There is no mirror here on this planet, Narcissus has settled on Earth and my ego today is not needy, nor never will be, no more: my eccentricity here is at its most extreme, at its most exquisite, most extraordinarily elegant, and I'm comfortable with that too.

    I call on my younger self to excuse my inadequacies as I know my older self will be looking across to me now as I am and merely encourage, not chide because I have here now forgiven my older self its preposterousness, its perfection. Its contradiction, in terms. This, for all its unreasonable demeanour is maybe the best position I've ever been. And I've been everywhere, but not yet. Soon this, too, must come to a premature end if it is to last forever, and that's what it is. The caduceus though I shall treasure...


    From EDEN by FREI
    Last edited by FREI; 08-11-2017 at 07:01 AM.

  8. #8
    On the road, but not! Danik 2016's Avatar
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    Neptune is traveling through the solar system and visiting other planets but in fact it seems that he is diving deeper and deeper into himself.
    I like the inovative language.
    "You can always find something better than death."
    Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, The Bremen Town Musicians

  9. #9
    Registered User FREI's Avatar
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    thank you danik!

  10. #10
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    Venus

    Venus troubles me. I come here reluctantly; so bright. So mystifying, so inscrutable. So tenebrous, as well, beneath that gleaming skin. Moist. Overwhelming, warm; so uninhabitable, at least for me. And still I feel I ought to spend some time here. Wherefore, I know not. For the experience? For the completion of my being? For the expansion, yet, of my horizon? – These planets travel far and yet not wide, except they do. They are – we all are – on a forward motion we don't notice. Venus knows. This is a body that's imbued with universal wisdom, which it can't express. We move in spirals, not ellipses, our sun drags us with her, and whenever we feel we've been here before, we have, but we're a little further down our path: it's not the direction of our nose that we travel in, it is the direction of our pate. We have no eyes there, at the top of our head, we have only a string that pulls us, and still we resist.

    Here on Venus, everything feels strange; the smells, the flavours, the embrace. The fuzzinesses and the softness, they unsettle me. Long before I become comfortable I become complacent, and that will not do. I start to wander, restless. I think I am getting ready to settle in some sort of way, but settledness entails a great deal of immobility. I like the rest of motion. I need to be alone. Not all the time, but enough. Venus asks me too many questions. It's not that I can't find any answers, these answers can mostly be found, but the effort is out of proportion. The thinking that normally invigorates me tires me out, here. The obviousnesses, the courtship; the irrationalities, the repetitions.

    At the time there was no myth and no meaning. The time being the beginning, the beginning being the origin, the origin being unknown. I suddenly feel alert, a little, and happier to exist, mainly because of this old realisation that I can't, I just can't expect myself to make sense of it all. Any of it, really, it's just there. Annoying as it may be. I take a step back and I look at my thoughts as they spread out before me and find them unsatisfactory. The thinking I'm doing is inelegant, crude; it will not suffice. Nor is it poetic. And thinking without poetry is like love without mathematics. It has no substance, no structure, no special tingle of satisfaction, no meaning. It is like sex in a haze of drunkenness with someone you don't fancy. I'm becoming self-referential and it irks me.

    Womanhood. Much like aliens, women don't so much scare me as baffle. I've hardly ever thought this through, but there comes a time. And a place. I seriously doubt that now is that time or this that place, but when or where will it ever be, and does it matter? I contend myself mostly with knowing that there are things I can't know and go where my curiosity takes me, which is not normally here. Nor abnormally. I'm out of my depth, out of my comfort, out of my pond. The mountains, the seas and the rivers, the streams. The landscape and the disorientation. There are too many things happening all at once to get a handle on any of them and there is also the new mix the new blend the new fusion. That both thrills and frightens me, a little. Not because I dread the loss of myself but because I really like my delineations as much as I like my inbetweennesses and my blurrages; the overlappedisation of our existence, I like it. Entropy.

    I hear a warm soothing voice that is not in my head and it is not in my memory; it is not my mother, my sister, my wife. (I have no wife, by the way, that was an unnecessary witticism of moderate charm and no consequence.) The voice comes from the ground and from the cloud that envelops the ground and from the all about the sphere that I have wrapped my body around, and it says that there are no mysteries and there must be no pain. She's trying to reassure me, I'm not sure she succeeds, but her sentiment is benign. I feel her hand on my back on my neck on my thigh and the touch is tender and real. I recall once upon a time being deeply at ease in this presence and as deeply afraid of it too. What embraces you can ensnare you, what holds you may crush you, what loves you will kill you, what desires you own you. What owns you is you. And you thought you knew who you were.

    Did I? Maybe a couple of aeons ago; it is possible, then, when I did not yet exist, that I was really quite sure of myself. I had an arrogant streak, not mean, not cocky, but aloof. My journey humbles me. I sense I'm getting closer to the truth, and like everyone else I know that there is no such thing. The energy that we are. The quantum states. The potentialities. The particles and the waves. Of course I am Venus as much as Venus is me: we share the constituent parts, and yet: I don't belong here. It's sometimes good to know where you belong, and also good to know where you definitely don't. There's nothing definite, ever, and anything can and does change, and you never say never and all that goes with it, and in any case there is only so much existing you can expect to do at one time, but by the time your energy dissolves and changes its form, time ceases too and you are quite literally reborn, only not in the way that you thought you didn't want to think about, or were taught, or wanted to believe to be nonsense. From one state to another. These states are all within us contained. The energy that you are is your matter your body your molecules your thoughts your emotion your wants and your needs (always, they come as a pair, you knew that already), your shades and your textures, and when they go they don't go they are simply reconfigured because energy cannot be destroyed, it can only be transformed. I shall not miss myself when I go for I am always around. So are you, so is Venus. So are the superclusters of our sistergods.

    I am much happier now than I was before I came here. I knew I would be, I doubted it not. But now, much as I sense the draw of the earth that is so near and so familiar and so welcoming too, I must surely go on a detour and find me a distant adventure. Home beckons, but I have to explore...


    From EDEN by FREI
    Last edited by FREI; 08-11-2017 at 02:15 PM. Reason: minor tweaks

  11. #11
    On the road, but not! Danik 2016's Avatar
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    Hi Frei,

    I think Mercury and Venus are more characteristic than the other ones, but Iīm still puzzled about some issues.

    Why does Neptune regard the earth as his home? Is he a human disguised as a planet or a planet with human feelings and a human identity?

    What is the aim of his space travels? Self-knowledge, space-knowledge or both?
    Last edited by Danik 2016; 08-11-2017 at 03:54 PM.
    "You can always find something better than death."
    Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, The Bremen Town Musicians

  12. #12
    Registered User FREI's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Danik 2016 View Post
    Hi Frei,

    I think Mercury and Venus are more characteristic than the other ones, but Iīm still puzzled about some issues.

    Why does Neptune regard the earth as his home? Is he a human disguised as a planet or a planet with human feelings and a human identity?

    What is the aim of his space travels? Self-knowledge, space-knowledge or both?
    Thanks Danik! Ė Yes, I noticed that, quite understandably, you interpreted the narrator to be Neptune: that's not the case. The narrator, 'I' (and really, therefore, me), identifies with Neptune at the beginning and describes himself in terms of this distant, invisible, in a way quite isolated, planet, and then decides to go on a walk through the solar system to find out more about himself and really to reassure himself that he isn't just Neptune, he has, or in one way or another relates to, 'qualities' of all the planets, though these are of course by necessity both cultural and personal, and therefore subjective. It's like going on a walk to clear your head and ponder your existence, putting it in context of what you find, and it's inspired, incidentally, by a 'Planet Walk' that exists in the mountains near Laax, Switzerland, where someone has placed tiny scale models of the planets along a path, spaced out also to scale, to give you an idea of how far away from each other and from the sun they really are (most visual representations of the solar system can't do that, because the distances are so vast).

  13. #13
    On the road, but not! Danik 2016's Avatar
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    Sorry, Frei. Yes, I thought that the Narrator was Neptune, visiting the other planets of the solar system.
    The astronomical landscape with itīs suggestion of misterious and seemingly lonely othernesses is really fascinating. Because of one of my favorite threads in this site, Astronomy,created by Dreamvowen, I started to read some articles. The stellar world known to us is expanding at an amazing fast pace. The solar system that seemed so big and far away is somehow becoming close and homely with the new discoveries.
    Last edited by Danik 2016; 08-12-2017 at 08:23 AM.
    "You can always find something better than death."
    Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, The Bremen Town Musicians

  14. #14
    Registered User FREI's Avatar
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    Uranus

    I wander to the place I know least and for a while I maybe like best, in a way; as an idea, as a thought, as a concept: the abstract liking of something from which you are distant, the fascination with unfamiliarity; the lure of the other; the stranger, the comfort, the awe. The steady roll on an invisible plane, the cool electric hue. The very slow seasons. Even the unwitting humour, lame though it is. It is a laconic planet I find here, unruffled, smooth and cyan. The awayness of it all, as at the end of despair. A well-neighboured distance; bookended, escorted by giants: significant in its own right but overlooked, overshadowed and, for no fault of its own, just not taken seriously: why would that be me?

    There is no life here, but there is otherness and that in itself is exciting. It feeds my curiosity: to go a step further, to move beyond. To tumble on a different axis, to fall upwards; float frozen but not still, to sense a different kind of heat on a newly defined horizon. I expect to be alone here, but Iím surrounded by character: here, in the outskirts, in the slow moving cold, there are others like me: how did we all get here? What projected us into this orbit, so far away, it would seem, from the soul, so within?

    These layers, these clouds, these rocks and these crystals, these rings, this ice and these moons, this magnetotail. They are not, perhaps, home, but they are a meaning all in themselves and they are somewhere, beautiful. True.

    For quite some time I enjoy this quirkiness and become part of it, willingly, coolly; I relish the arms length attention I get. Nobody knows me here or cares who I am, but my aloofness my look and my languid demeanour are being noted. My hair the peroxide silver of this unbreathable atmosphere and my clothes the black of the all that surrounds me. If you know where I am you can find me and find me foreign and alien too.

    Yet after a while I miss the simplicity of warmth. Not that I know what that means, but it means that Iím out in the cold and I want to come back now, closer to home, closer to the sun, closer to people who donít understand me, closer to something I vaguely remember as love. This strangeness leaves me estranged from myself, and enjoying it now seems an effort. Soon, I know, I will have to let go, and I realise now that Iím not living my life in chronological order. That puzzles me for a moment until it occurs to me that time too is down to perception and there will come a time when itíll all simply meld into one, as it must.

    Entropy.

    Out here I thought I felt a sense of freedom until that sense became quite oppressive. That, too, was a surprise. And so I let go. Slowly, at first and then readier, more. This is not for me, after all, this agreeable spectacle, this isolation: it could quite easily turn into a habit, a mannerism, a cliche, a role.

    The young man at a soiree (it was that more than that it was a party a dinner or just a drinks) whoíd looked at me and said: Ďare you for real?í Thatís when I knew I was in danger of becoming a caricature of myself. And Uranus could be my place no more. I like this now, this clarity, this resolution. This immense relief too, not to have to be defined by weirdness forever. Strange, yes, curious, always, different, maybe (then Ďdifferentí to what?), but not impenetrable and not obscure. Not even, in that sense, mysterious, really: there are so very few mysteries in the universe, apart from the multiverse of all possible universes itself, and that, too, is only a matter of consciousness and the cumulative number of braincells firing at it: one day it will just be another reality too. Like blossoms, like spring. Like the awakening, too.

    Iím getting better at this, being me. This walk seems to be doing wondersÖ



    From EDEN by FREI

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