(no subject)
The rain comes loud on the city. From inside the car, the windshield is a moving impressionist painting, a blurred representation of the world beyond it. In the moment before the wipers click to life, it's completely abstract. Only color and feeling, sprays of red and yellow, green light, countless shades of grey. formless rivers of electric paint that ebb and flow with the weight of motion.
Then the wipers flash by, and the outside world snaps into stark, naked clarity. Headlights and streetlights. tail lights and traffic lights. people crossing streets. blue ponchos, a pink umbrella, stop signs and turn signals. Spinning wheels. The road, flashing by like a film reel.
Shapes blur together again, boundaries disappear and the colors spread like a fire. The world fades into obscurity, drifts into a dream...
and snaps into clarity again.
obscurity....clarity.
formlessness...structure.
oneness and separation.
dreaming and awake.
right and left.
back and forth.
back and forth.
back and forth.
Then the wipers flash by, and the outside world snaps into stark, naked clarity. Headlights and streetlights. tail lights and traffic lights. people crossing streets. blue ponchos, a pink umbrella, stop signs and turn signals. Spinning wheels. The road, flashing by like a film reel.
Shapes blur together again, boundaries disappear and the colors spread like a fire. The world fades into obscurity, drifts into a dream...
and snaps into clarity again.
obscurity....clarity.
formlessness...structure.
oneness and separation.
dreaming and awake.
right and left.
back and forth.
back and forth.
back and forth.