IT is the marriage between time and narrative in ancient structures holding master narratives. And we resign ourselves to sleep as we cultivate our thirst for TIME. Around Spirit, ideological maps provide phantom structures. It is the navigation of time. The identification with a vessel as we negotiate waves of time: the constellation of the arch’s content. The living, breathing embodiment of time. There is time, and then there are the stories we tell ourselves about time. The author constructs time in a world of dreams. The novel is carved in time as we sink deeper into stillness. I listen to space in between waves. The flow of consciousness is directed by ideology I do not understand anymore. They speak of emotion, it is anchored in their being.
As language unfolds on canvas,
we search for the vibrational frequency of time that will reward tribe as the narrative we play begins to unfold in time. As consciousness flows from source, filling form to varying degrees, animating life into the story we play an endless time.
And we materialize reality as Rachmaninoff plays.