We cannot recall which thought, precisely, but so that it brings us, already, to silence.
Astonishment. And that moving shadow in the extreme cold wind seems to be the only hook left.
But before the fortune sticks are moved, we already suspect that the first step - and those who follow, perhaps - would have to be done barefoot, again.
For example: the feeling of being ── that, perhaps, only conjugates in plurals and gerunds and that in itself it is an abyss (s) ── magnetically suspended by the cardinal sins ── a downfall that drives you to the bottom of the oceans.
That is the walk in the waking dream, in the senseless, meaningless, itself.
What is left then? A bare suspension ── with no veils, alétheia──, an uncoated search.
Are you wondering if that is possible?
I already asked myself: is that a first image from some knowledge? A first silence from some astonishment? Is it a first step to the undone?
*There is a clearing in the forest ──a lichtung──.
There is a light and a place.
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