The Poetics of Spaces

After rain: the perpetual anticipation of the next rain. Some time has passed since the last time I sat down to think of this irreducible experience, that is, when I…

Image Credit: Still from The Turin Horse, directed by Béla Tarr. The process of dying is part of living. — Dr. Drew. The thing is, that sometimes the feeling of…

I don’t know. No, it’s a long story. I tried to leave but couldn’t. Somehow, I found the motivation. Not everyone will be taken into the future, but everything depends…

“People have always been divided into two groups: victims and murderers. I don’t know whether it is possible to free oneself from one group and switch over to the other…

Flickering routes of communication. Do you see that the memories segregate themselves according to degrees of fuzziness? Dancing across the keyboard. Tides of reflective lines. Flickering. I remember a moment…

Can you hear blue? That feeble cousin of the voice of the sky that lingers around only long enough to be categorized as a color, then fades away into the…

Sometimes I am just trapped under the fucking sky. A speculum of sweating and oath-making, expectations for anomalies, anomalies of expectations. Many years ago I tried to put something into…

Sometimes a place is a site of conjuration that sits, welling up, contaminated, voice and remarks reserved for later, and the secret self that is of the place takes on…

Here is the perspective here: nothing else matters. An encounter at such a high altitude: more than breath, breathing. A different kind of breath. Looser. Tighter. Here to witness the…

There are not many things as humbling as seeing the full moon through a telescope and being able to see, the moon: not as the moon you see nightly in…

Featured Image: Wheat Field With Reaper and Sun, Vincent Van Gogh In the light there is a glimmer that sustains a thousand different images. In that light, you were, and…

There are many things to say about Los Angeles. Most of these things I will not say because you already know them. Because a singular Los Angeles does not exist…

Perhaps the most important thing is that the sky isn’t blue. That is, once you recognize the sky as blue, you’ve lost something. Let’s recognize that when we’re in a…

One must be receptive, receptive to the image at the moment it appears. (from The Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard) In one space the safety and cleanliness of a…