werds n that

Christmas on The Street of Flowers
January 4, 2012, 2:55 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

In a strange land, with hidden places, towering buildings bundled one on top of the other, organic, growing from river to the sky, the streets outside are mostly quiet but I can’t be certain of that because I have barely left the house, left the bed where I have found many a splendid distraction, many a succulent excuse to not open the shutters, but life flows everywhere here in Porto, it penetrates the walls, life seeps into the ground, it hangs from windows and calls from roof tops.  I can catch a glimpse of the city in the summer or the spring, people moving slowly, languidly through the streets, hot with days of sunshine, the warm nights, the lights.

I woke up on Christmas morning, to lots of splendid gifts so I must have been a good boy this year, Santa hadn’t visited due to the apartment lacking a chimney but I’m not too bothered I don’t really need a wooden toy train set or even an iphone.  I have all that I need in my head, my hands and my heart.  I carry myself away from things because things will always carry themselves away from me.  I prefer skills, wisdom, knowledge about how I, others and the universe works.  This cannot be lost, not even in the timelessness beyond time.  What we know and experience and feel and think is transmuted into the eternal, so choose your thoughts wisely or more wisely than I have done at times.

Do I write about private moments that happen beneath blankets?  No somethings are not for the page but are secret treasures of the mind, they’re not for translation into words, words are after all the least effective form of communication and yet I am forced by my own inclinations and powers to use words to explode the myth of words.  I use twentysixletterspureandclear to expose that twentysixletters can never truly describe, detail, document or destroy the majesty of existence, of a raging universe filled with splendor, of time and space.  These words can’t express the fundamental joy of love, they can’t laugh with you, they can never hold you, they can’t eat with you, they can’t celebrate and commiserate with you.  Words are just that, words, they are at the moment our best way of communicating our unique, personal, human experience.  Though remember this, they are not and never have been life.


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