If there is a rotten part of a banana, you cut it out, and you enjoy the banana. You donโ€™t much bemoan the fact that you were given a rotten banana. That was only 1/10th true. But if youโ€™re given a ๐’‡๐’–๐’๐’๐’š rotten banana. Then you take that right up with the giver

Radishes and roses

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Imagination and invention ~ Dream and delusion ~ ~ Fantasy and formation ~ ~ ~ Reality and reunion ~ ~ ~ ~ Necessity and novation ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Confidence and confusion ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Patience and pretension ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Presence and preclusion ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Indulgence and immersion ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Insight and illusion ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Force and fruition ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Ecstasy and exclusion ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Melody and mutation ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Miracle and

malfunction โŒ‡

You will notice that there is no philosophy. No purpose. Nothing to lay your hands, or hang your hat on. Nothing to make 'sense' of, in any ordinary sense. Only random, exotic, and exquisite fruits, to sink your teeth in to. To saturate your tongue under the flavours of. To magnify your mind under the microscope of. To telescope your tastes in appreciation of. To soothe your soul with the salience, and radiances of. But to block your mind from an attachment to. Language, purely, as the lustre of love's loom. Like a constellation, there is no singular starting point. Yet all points form the whole, and illuminate the source. The air, is a million molecules of freedom. Breath, is a trillion prayers of unreason

The waves weaved busily below the peach-green glimmer of a stretched cerulean sunset, a panoramic platform captured in the peripheral camera of the eyes. A train approached off the shore, emerging from soft sparse clouds on the horizon mist. Lantern streetlamps glowed pale orange, brighter than daylight, in the crystal clear cold. The scent of pizza swept the sky. The crackle of firewood warmed the mind. The shops were closed. Lovers rollerbladed through empty malls at 2am to the soundtrack of 1920s Christmas embrings echoing through pottery-barn corridors and off the marble floors that skipped their tile-trilled rivets like freeways on tires, tih,tihhhh, tih tihhhhh, tih, tihhhhh, sending shivers of solace up the feet and through their legs. A small terrace quake. Cops collapsed in cowardice. Coffee suspended in space. Circling like a skating rink. Sun dresses cycling in blinks. Kisses exploding in books. Mansions bestowed on the homeless. A business card pinned on a bulletin board bearing only a number that when burnished from a payphone summons a towncar, chauffeuring you to a bespoke pastlife, in the embrace a kindling halflight. Beachside playground swings squeak, changing scenes with every sway. Entering and exiting galaxies in eyes. Shooting stars tracked to their demise. A hammock tied between continents. A pillow pattering your time. Snapshots, snapshots, snapshots, of your MTV mind