proximity to memory

Encapsulated within the thinnest membranes, fragile layers of memory, of emotion, so close to where we stand.

The proximity to memory: the indeterminate distance to our past. A child's hands outstretched in time, grasping the shapes of light. Light, coloring in the walls of a familiar hallway, consuming its length, its form.

The exact length of our hands outstretched, divided by floors measured by uneven ceramic tiles. Tiles molded from the softest clay, the changing patterns of a pixelled past. That it was once a part of us. That it is still a part of us. We are mere parts and processes, pulled passages from children's fables, underlined by touch, by voice, reciting syllables instead of words, sounds so close to song.

To remember: the circuitous path to an alternate route. Unbroken lines that lead us home. Homes housed only in dreams, waxy, colored lines that outline the forms of dwelling. And we are colored in through sleep. We dream back to who we are in times past. We are defined by the amorphous shapes of a scribble-coded language, numbered shapes that we forgot to color in, again. We are unfinished coloring book ending. We are prince and princess, awaiting a child's reinterpretation of reality's biased color scheme. We are hands that cannot stay within the allotted space of predefined figurines. We are torn pages of mismanaged markers.

crossword consciousness

the metropolis of memory. the lighted neurons of re-activated regrets. the epicenter of a dying dwelling.

diagnosis, disappearing. anti-depressant additives and mandatory medication. chemical constellations of a psycho-spatial galaxy.

reaching anatomical alignment. co-dependence of cognitive categories. the numbered boxes of pixelated passages.

Diaspora of Consciousness

Have been thinking about space, home, dwelling, diaspora. Renting space within people's lives. Temporary dwelling. Temporary trust.

The sense of place. Of home. Emotional attachment to home. Assessing movement within negative space. Thick liquid settling around nameless shapes of domestic debris.

Biomorphic ghosts. A diaphanous veil hovering in and around us. The closed eyes of a past, dressed in a present-tense lie.

The second definition to 'dwell' (dictionary.com) is particularly interesting:
to live or continue in a given condition or state

"We get a sense of dwelling as infusing our being into a particular space." (http://everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=1253673)

I remember writing an essay in college about how the idea of 'home' for me always resided in the past. While for many home is not necessarily tied to temporal constraints (i.e. home is where you make it), for me it was rooted in a distant past, only inhabited by my memories and nocturnal dreams. It became a place where I wasn't.



"Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home." -Matsuo Basho