Rejection is an empty room. Is the hollow hell of fear we feel the clear and present absence as much and in or of ourselves as that of any Other? We each and all in turn eventually reject that Other self and in dusty, mirrored isolation turn once more towards our own essential emptiness and […]
Everything begins as nothing and eventually returns there again. There is no real loss or sorrow, just the transience and self-inflected emptiness that pervades everything in life and to which we all must eventually return. A hollow, haunting experience of these facts can be overwhelming but it is worth remembering that if you are sensitive, […]
That moment you realise that not only is your dream truly and forever unattainable, but that all your hopes and aspirations to nurture and protect that precious soul and eternal flame of joy and living beauty or unbounded freedom were only ever bundled hollow, haunted and melancholy intuitions of your own failure. To become a […]
There is an implicit and irreducible incompleteness in things. Those who feel experiences most acutely, with greater sensitivity and the profound depth of interior, psychological reflection are much less likely to simply sweep away a lingering sense of unease, less able to simply accept with complete belief or unproblematic gullibility the profoundly hollow or superficial […]
We suffer for others and in so many ways but we always do so alone. There is nothing quite so distressing as to live in fear. It is a relentless slow burn of doubt that eats away at us inside and in its haunting persistence and metallic tang generates burdens, not necessarily of fact, but […]
All grief is love, veiled.
The bitter-sweet cost and irreducible irony of sincere compassion is that in any act of selfless love we will almost always ourselves lose that which we seek to set free.
Flowers can never know that they must always be enslaved in a cage of their own entangled branches and upon encountering some other cruelty they ever assume it as their own; in this way chained dark and anxious sorrows masquerade as freedom while blossoms held in shadow might still sweet innocence bloom. It is we […]
It is a strange game we all play with ourselves where we hide those truths that possess us and in their place assert shallow caricatures of ego and two-dimensional superficiality and by the bonfire of all these vanities we shelter as though the flames and chaos were not really harming us all in profound and […]
The more I encounter beauty in life and for all the implicit aesthetic pleasure it brings, the sadder I find that I become and I can not determine if this is a melancholy experience carried by me or if it is in some way native to beauty itself. Flickering warmth and firefly passions soon and […]
Context: The Café Beauty, like life, is a transient thing and the experience of it brings as much suffering as it does joy – an equation perhaps weighted to the darkness more than to the light and in the inevitability of the ends we all must face, this seems a certain truth. The sense of […]
A landscape of dusty desolation is beautiful as bare reminder or relic memory of each wonderful thing that no longer dwells there. The broken building brings a nameless frame that haunts this hallowed emptiness like scrub green masks hang dry mist upon the shallow valley. Sparse Somali scene, a momento mori under the infinite emptiness […]
