‘For my feet have gained guile’
Portsmouth December 6th: System process system process. Morning alterations no longer an early riser but the dreams have become violent watching fingers move tick tock tick tock tick tock as the evenings draw in tight and icy. No more to travel – waiting for results.
She is here – she lights up – she moves after a minimalist fashion in multiple ways to choose – attempts to filter the essence lays ahead but the process is fixed written in stone and drawn in boxes with key codes in sharp pencil.
I learn to lean on my A S P E R G E R and shout O X Y T O C I N to eliminate random movements set free to run each picked out in red momentarily against aluminum – reflecting in series – rhythmic in length and step back and forth transforming as I turn.
To choose the whole or the detail – retreading through ripple marked sands – each worm cast stands proud against the retreating salted waters – each a world inhabited for feeding – breeding – perpetuation of the self in leaner times. The beach falls away preserved for 128 million years – time and moment caught as cemented sand grains mimic the home.
I can see its place in the timeline
I can see its worth
I can see the traces of life
I can see the whole.
I can see the process
I can see the sound
