"It is death sweetly bluish, like non-being. Because nonbeing is an infinite emptiness and empty space is blue, and there is nothing more beautiful and more soothing than blue. Not at all by chance did Novalis, the poet of death, love blue and search for nothing else in his journey’s.The voyage of variations leads into the other infinitude, into the infinite diversity of the interior world lying hidden in all things." - Milan Kundera


Without weight, there is no color there is no radiation, rainbow or variety, temperature, emotion, height or its symmetrical depth. Memories and people attached to them loosen and loosen shape, loose importance, influence & communication with your soul, therefore your soul looses direction, nostalgia evaporates, steam releasing anxiety and disorder. What you were/are once, will not matter twice. The mountains, meadows, sunrises, the stench of lavender on my shoulder from sleeping upon rows and rows of smiling flowers........ and hurricanes of streaming fabrics of warring colors, russian poets lost in duels for love, their poetry, my pottery, his cat, her blue tongue, and even the color orange...even the color orange blends with the rivers of galaxies emptying into vacant pools of ink. Collecting stars, shimmering into throbbing white clusters -----all smooth out onto one plane, of 2 dimensional simplicity. take the canvas, and put it out in front of you. Now try to find your fears? Your doubts? Your sadness? Your shame? Your pain? Your game? Your loss? Your scar? Your cigarette tar? ..........Elements of hatred towards yourself? Memories and yearnings. Dreams distorting perception and the seconds in your life you spent caring about becoming someone other than who you already are, those seconds of bending over backwards into negative infinity. Where are they! Show me!.........do “they” even exist....who are you? Where are you?..... Or are we all just lying hidden in all things, swimming in an ocean of blue electricity, living inside a resonating seashell..... like a mollusk... where every whispered word, and thought calling to our attention, reverberates, swells, into multiple unending echoes, rebounding only off of ourselves, and the protection we have built around us, believing we are all that exists......Growing into our belief’s. All wanting to be different. All wanting to be crazy. All wanting to be beautiful and talented. But afraid to stick out our tiny little heads into the abyss, holding on with our lives to the floating bubbles. Of thought, Of shell, Of disappointment. Of the concreteness of being this and that......abstract. we live. All afraid to be eaten, by what we belief in most. Ourselves.