Question: Does Time have a form and a face? Are we trapped in this illusory fractal of forms or do we free ourselves into the absolute formlessness?
Answer: Let the wind find its way right through the left hemisphere of your brain and paint shapes in autumn red and turbulent indigo in a superconscious superunknown we call the temporary life. These few years in this particular form, this peculiar cut, the few inches occupying a dot on earth, its a journey through time and space, time being the eternal now alone, past stashed away into cerebral corners, future containing no discernable script, a timeless horizon over Ganga, orange-clad sunlessness castaway onto shores of shamanistic shadows. Kashi, release the Shiva onto the Ghats, make a pencil-sketch of a Trishul on Narad Ghat next to Mark's Redhouse. Bhom!
Question: Is the artistic image the only eternal one?
Answer: As transparent as it seems, the aspect of fluidity within art is what provides a state of temporary relief, a sense of divine contact, touching the thread hanging above your head to let the supersonic hum sing through the vessel that is your body. In this state of grace, a oneness appears to have manifest itself within the corridors of your corpora callosa.
Answer: Let the wind find its way right through the left hemisphere of your brain and paint shapes in autumn red and turbulent indigo in a superconscious superunknown we call the temporary life. These few years in this particular form, this peculiar cut, the few inches occupying a dot on earth, its a journey through time and space, time being the eternal now alone, past stashed away into cerebral corners, future containing no discernable script, a timeless horizon over Ganga, orange-clad sunlessness castaway onto shores of shamanistic shadows. Kashi, release the Shiva onto the Ghats, make a pencil-sketch of a Trishul on Narad Ghat next to Mark's Redhouse. Bhom!
Question: Is the artistic image the only eternal one?
Answer: As transparent as it seems, the aspect of fluidity within art is what provides a state of temporary relief, a sense of divine contact, touching the thread hanging above your head to let the supersonic hum sing through the vessel that is your body. In this state of grace, a oneness appears to have manifest itself within the corridors of your corpora callosa.
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