Water.
“I have no other wish that a close fusion with nature …”
– Claude Monet
I feel at home in the trees. Otherwise my mind is in the clouds. Being underwater is like secretly being in love. Everything but taste and smell is an Ode to Black Heart. I never knew how it would happen, though I always presumed it could. Lucidity makes me even and straights make me crooked. People take me places and I am free. I have an ineffable life.
Universal.
Working with ever-expanding complexities of universal matter and one another is intriguing, beautiful and bitter. Rapid transformation of social dogma through capital-fuelled democracy attributes blame or responsibility to no one.
Matter.
The Nuevo social nominal being a constant, combined with subjugation can be insidiously boring as it is brutally disarming of wit and rewarding of monotony. Natural and anomalous intelligence is sometimes flooded by an inundation of well-intentioned nexuses towards cooperation for an ironically flawed ambition to assimilate and get along with something that has not even been completely formulated – it is simply impossible from the beginning; yet constantly strived for with seeming futility.
The only agreeable dispute is that our shared non-biological mother is our tortured earth. She bares, breathes, burns and cries with us – she could bury us before she is done. We are matter and we all matter.