a basket of winds and waters

Sometimes it seems that what we see is nothing but the possibility of a transparency placed upon the deeper shadows and darker echoes of the place; a cartoon world parading itself in two dimensions, shrinking into itself in a twisted skein of illusions and repetiton. This place a singularity drowning into itself, pluralism dancing into a plughole of transience...the portrait of a city adrift between worlds, a self stumbling through unmarked borders...

These days in their moment cast afternoon shadows upon this place, these places strewn upon themselves by the passing eye and departed breath...