After years of roaming unable to decipher the world that surrounds me
with nothing more than the transitory emotions for order, I select to leave having created no relief.
It is not this earth I leave, but this time. I am falling to the instinct remnant of the nomadic existence of my ancestors. Although it may be not of their choosing, I willingly choose;
to be a Bedouin of time and not space. The destination time, that is a passage of unknown consequence.
If I return or happen to survive, I’m not certain of my capabilities to communicate, but will attempt some journal…
2 comments:
(to be read with the crass, loud, obnoxious fordsonite attitude and voice of joe mangi:
yeah bro, you may travel badawi-style to other times in your head and find wierd things to think about, but bro, how far can you go? you still gotta wash the sands out of your toes before your wife allows you to enter the house, and you still have to take your son to boy scout on sunday afternoon, and you still gotta pay bills that you cant even afford, and you still gotta do daily menial activities dat yur boss tol you to do, and they are activities that you know are pointless. braoao! what do you think you are, rumpolstilskin or something? I mean, ibn battuta or somethin?
sand...beautiful sand.
wonderful shot.
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