No Lasting Form
29. March 2021
No Lasting Form
April 2 2021
A car on a desert highway at dawn. Half asleep at the wheel, gradients shift the sands, spiralling into the awakening sky. Distant transmissions, civilisation at its knees.
Down to the water, at narrow margins, it is too late for panic. Fraying ropes, ripped sails and a blistered timber deck, such well worn allies to survive the endless crest and trough of the sea. Silent but screaming, of no lasting form.
Trying to hold on, to set solid foundations or to cling to some precious debris. Impermanent in a constantly shifting frame.