Good night children. We swim in the desire for more catalogues arriving by mail. Skirting the entrance. Our duty to serve, respond, and shut-up. Incidental music. She had not awakened. At least not much. The messages still arrived though their number had decreased. An illusion is something that will not stop. That which returns and returns again - disquietude. Always loosing one's place. "Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful" [Proverbs]. What is it that attracts. In the nakedness of the face a rupture. We live in the house. We live in this house. This necessity to tear oneself. The several births. Intuition is not enough. And it is enough. We walk into a different and entirely unfamiliar world. History does not stop, but we do not know whether it is a call or an answer.
Caught within the painting
It was your mother's voice
Faith going forth as possession, not certainty
We do not know what is said