..a long string of almost words... (snipped from Kimm’s status update)
Recalling one director’s documentary on their relative with Alzheimer’s... and the babbling brook that they muttered, late in the disease...
Recalling my anger, my friends’ anger, even stranger anger - all trying to latch on to some travesty in our society, and I wonder, “is that some defense, some blame game, to avoid taking s hard look at ourselves?”
Recalling surrealism and post-modern magic, where the word strings become art and the art laughs heartily at the world and everyone trying to make sense out of it all...
But, in the end, it all feels like a wobbly Tower of Babel. The confusion, the hustle, the inconclusive...
Would that I had sanctuary, a quiet place from all this alien... would that I did not feel compelled to be understand...
Would that I could sit by your side, in a beautiful reality where we could contemplate... where we could piece the jigsaw of life together again... cooperatively or individually, as times would allow - without this imperious urge to compete so violently, just to be heard
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