Life is like an abandoned court covered in surplus shuttlecocks, so said nobody ever. It doesn't explain the picture. We are here to feel a mild alienation that also carries a quiet sense of peace. It has no name. It feels like a settled oddness, a sense of not quite belonging but being there. An unspoken threat, weak and bearable, it stays veiled by our feeble optimism. There is a way out of this that we can see, yet we fear to pull that loose switch. Beyond the edges there may be a deeper dark, not a place we would choose to visit.
We are unsure where we are. Once so called wise people spoke of signs and wonders, of visions and dreams. It all seemed fine then. In truth nothing happened. Nothing changed. We stayed where we were. The oldnesss of it all just unfolded like dead skin. There is comfort in that.
Back to making use of our heavy spectacles to read old instructions and find our way. We check the small clues as they appear, thumbing through grey photos. Blow the dust away if you have the breath. The ink fades as you study the words but the letters don't want to form up into legible patterns so progress is tough. The letters have their own reasons for this I suppose.
Thank you for checking out this nice but dim photo dump.
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