Immaterial.

"No permanence is ours; we are a wave that flows to fit whatever form it finds."

Herman Hesse

I am not sure how long to make this.

I have been skimming Keith Hamon's recent post:  

"The Viscosity of Rhizo14". 

http://blog.keithwhamon.net/2015/10/the-viscosity-of-rhizo14.html

I feel that I should excuse myself. 

SKIMMING 

across 

the 

surface.

WHY?

Should I be deep?

"Plus ça change - Plus c'est la même chose."

Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Baptiste_Alphonse_Karr

A

WORD

There are words...

OBJECT(S)

We are stuck on objects.

WORDS.

OBJECTS.

WE ARE STUCK ON OUR OUTLINES.

WE ARE STUCK ON THESE OUTLINES.

THESE WORDS.

THESE OBJECTS.

I was skimming a Mariana Funes' recent post on her DoubleMirror blog.

MIRROR

OPENNESS 

IN 

EDUCATION 

-

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

http://mdvfunes.com/2015/10/05/openness-in-education-plus-ca-change-plus-cest-la-meme-chose/

I am fixed in an outline in a pool.

I feel that I should excuse myself. 

SKIMMING 

across 

the 

surface.

WHY?

Should I be deep?

"Plus ça change - Plus c'est la même chose."

Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Baptiste_Alphonse_Karr

“The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said:

"I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected.” 

― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

WE ARE FIXED 

IN

AN 

I
CON

VITRUVIAN MAN 

da VINCI

“I like the stars. 

It's the illusion of permanence, I think.

 I mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out. 

But from here, I can pretend...I can pretend that things last. 

I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. 

Gods come, and gods go. 

Mortals flicker and flash and fade. 

Worlds don't last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. 

But I can pretend...” 

― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 7: Brief Lives

THERE ARE NO OBJECTS

THERE ARE NO WORDS

THERE IS NO WEB

XYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXYXY

THISISIMMATERIAL.

Image Credit

http://prostheticknowledge.tumblr.com/post/68114410144/waves-installation-art-piece-by-te-raijmakers

The morning after...

The wake-up was difficult.

After the euphoria of the nights before the drear of reality started to hit the people hard.

The party was over.

Somehow the rucksacks seemed impossible to pack. 

The combination of fatigue, hangover, and rain was a powerful depressant.

Looking around, the last remaining tents seemed to be marooned in an ocean of junk. Discernible, were discarded cans of Coke, empty water bottles, mountains of cigarette butts, the odd comatose drunk.

How could a festival of free music, free love, free speech,  free joints have been reduced to this desolation?

There are those of us who were there at the beginning and left early.

Our dreams and our illusions are kept intact. We were going to change the world. We have changed the world. We are living in our world. We are living in our world for ever.

There are those who were there and who realise that we were never really free. 

Our dreams and our illusions keep us sane. We never change the world. We have never changed the world. We are living in our world. We are living in our world for ever.

There are those were never invited.

Our dreams and illusions mean nothing to them. They know that we never change the world. We have never changed the world. We are living, we are just about living in our world. We are living in our world for ever. 

For ever is a short time.