poetry | photography | philosophy
The bird which picks up and the bird that looks on. Such a split is consciousness. Consciousness, inherently split, neigh, the split, is nothing other than Time. And one is always of two minds! It is what it is; it is what it is not; and it is not what it is; yet it is…
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Let us start by postulating that pain is staged. Such a postulation would make pain somewhat irreal, a game even. But we know that when we feel pain, we feel its pangs genuinely enough. In experiencing pain, we do not sense anything irreal about it, let alone do we consider that it might all be…
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