I find a freedom in being
But to meet a human, that’s something else
I’m nothing more then my surroundings
and I play. unforeseen.
unselectively. in light.
When a sadness swallows me
I cry out stilled on a stone
all the losts, and nevers, and never agains
Till birds and seas trip me back
in the play of just being
Now, in stead of seducing human eyes
I’ll try to be for them that humble stone
the giant bird the reflecting sea
or a horse, maybe
The mix up of entomology and etymology has followed me. It all started with a member of the Cantharidae family gazing through the camera lens, followed up by a dried out cicada falling down from a tree as I cried. I felt I needed to realize something: For a long…