searching rest in movement, I waste myself, afloat.

carrying and being carried. . forceful, yielding. .

a soluble state of being. .

availability of moving and being moved. .

letting go . carried away.

bent by what escapes me. . .

inhabiting contradictory forces, I find myself in between.

Related Blogposts

In Marcel Proust’s novel In Search of Lost Time (1913–27), there are passages where the protagonist, whose name we are never told throughout this seven-volume work, is overwhelmed by a sensuous experience which triggers a flood of memories that completely overtake him. The most well-known is the episode with the…

With my eyes closed… sensing. Stomach, heart and taste buds getting ready. The beginning of a smile in my hips, and the touch of the air on my lips anticipate the sweet taste of here and now.