This could be a story, sitting where I am writing, or the poem of what's written being here before me. This may be the middle part of a column - I mean a column intended to support another structure - which the eye travels past, from the bottom to the top, from the top to the bottom.
This may not be a wave. I do not allow it permission to be the fact of the potential for breaking toward the shore. Oh wave. You broke and the pieces were absorbed. You did not really break at all.
All of this is based on shoddy research, the best research. Research you did not even know you were collecting until it occurred to you to write conclusions, and a conclusion is not a false hope. Have some respect for false conclusions.
Projection, too, is not a conclusion or false hope. So many ways we interfere with process. You may only occupy the middle part of a column that never made it past the gates. Praise.
But we project pictures at least these days, being interfered with. I say we project pictures, snapshots of daily occurrences. Crossing the street, newscasts. You call what you see interesting or provoking, banking on the kindness of neighboring events. It could be a warning that we are at our best while asleep.
I see constant turnover, recycling projections. The sound sound sound of light. The sort of advertising that puts no one off. That problem. That disposition.
Now, I'm not about to change your mind, and that's not my purpose anyway. I have no interest in replacing one thing with another thing. What I'm doing here is its own excuse, deciding what key to hit. I felt an urge, a strong urge. I think that much is clear.
But I have no will to interfere.
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