Behind This Page
‘’Behind this page but not disappearing ”
A life articulated in the void, deprived of every stimulus and devoid of any meaning, must correspond to a “frozen” time, without a flow. A time that knows no past or present, static, unmoving, a bad eternity…Narrative-shots in ruins-skin-the soul of things)
Every time there is an intense emotion it’s like a smoke/mist covering everything around. Some other times, it’s as if it’s embracing everything and others as if it’s encaging everything. Fear, love, hatred, all create smoke(mist) of varying density,width and colour. Everything disperses like smoke, except when they merge into a wall (the dream of the guy(man?) by the door produces some smoke, as if reaching a conclusion).
If you’re wandering aimlessly on a beach, for example, as I’m doing now, there’ no specific colour of smoke. If, however, you’re travelling for a specific reason it’s different. It’s like those moments when you get back home after an exhausting day’s work and you project a shape around you which leaves you and heads towards your destination.
“I stood there , staring into the horizon, trying to distinguish or imagine shapes and forms reflected in the clouds and the clear water. Trying to see waves, smoke and energy fields… The messages we ourselves emit.
Every cell in a body and every molecule and atom in that cell is in a state of incessant vibration, making up a greater amount of energy which is able to transform the electric properties of the space they occupy. The message of change travels to other places at the speed of light. Given that our organisms are different, each of us echoes-reverberates in a frequency that is a personal trait, as unique as our fingerprints. We are like radars. Sensors, sensitive to messages from similar distant organisms.
(Close ups of ruins-skin-soul of things-digging into matter)
all paths are well-trodden, full of people and murmurs. But there is one that differs, a path with a soul. A path that, without hesitation, begins the rhythm of its own life. Anyway to know something well one must really touch it. Not meaning to be crude-to my mind only inaction(inertia) is crude. I focus on my bare feet, on this piece of soft earth. There could be many routes leading to the same place, though none of them would be as suitable as this one. I let it affectionately carry my bare feet. Paths like this one appear in nature of their own volition. They are the result of the spiritual relationship that connects the earth and its people, those who can sense the rhythm of its breath. Such a path, embellishes the landscape rather than violate and disfigure it.
A common thread that runs through identical or disparate elements and ends up being a state of things retired unto itself which cannot be seen through one’s eyes but can rather be felt. The lights pulsing timorously in the firmament are perhaps a rhythm of recoiling into themselves. Perhaps if we are at harmony with them we will find the meaning…the way…The earth is living, tossing in her sleep, dreaming, stirring, breathing, panting. Her humours course through her body. Her waters convey information. We grow, we mature with her, or so we believe.
(Stretching)Spreading her senses towards the universe, observing and waiting for the echo of the melody which will signal a new super-sensuous dance. (dancer on sand)
Ready to respond. We are born in a fluid state. Everything born on earth was born in water. We have all experienced life in the liquid element at least once. ——————–Nine months for most -seven and a half for me- in the womb’s liquids, a respiratory cord connected to our belly. There we heard everything. The maternal heartbeat, the creaking bones all around us, a frothing beer and any other sound from our immediate environment…trying to retain our primeval functions …apart from our
bodily mass, each of us carries over 10 tons of air. The only reason we are not crushed is that the blood and the other bodily fluids which are compressed counterbalance the atmospheric pressure…it’s a sensitive balance,…a sensitive chaos. So I sing of the day and the sea and the time and the planets. And thus I am entangled with all I wish for and am at one with everything in this guileless toing and froing, for in our future lie roving bolts of lightning and violent flour storms…..