infinite space. Then the contraction contraption machine lowering its droning cry like a warship set lose on the roads of concrete and tall electricity poles, roads with dents and craters setting lose the debris from yesterday's construction workload full of talks and complaints and inconsideration of the total metaphysical embargo on thoughts and ideas and a free mind to roam the empty skies and swim the rudimentary rivers run down by the trees of convoluted pollution of the mind. The other mind the unknown mind upstairs on a chair authoritative (?) as they call it (!) True, really, really true, I wonder how when where what this could be about about ideas and mind only mind because mind travels faster than light or that's what they say who they are I don't know so don't ask and also because who they are isn't as important as the saying itself but yeah, mind travels faster than light like tens of thousands of thoughts per second covering almost gazzillions of areas flow in and out of our mind and we can't even fathom what that could possibly mean. so why don't we change our scientific knowledge now, that we have established the fact that mind is faster than light? until yesterday we were taught that nothing is faster than light and now we know that something is isn't that phenomenal? ask ask ask ask asking is good asking brings answers so ask ask ask ask askaskaaskaskaskask ask until you can believe that the answer is correct. Ask! But i don't know. It's very complicated, science has to go through this series of series of complicated experiments and there is no way one can measure mind or its speed for that matter science isn't that scientific yet or that's what they say and I should believe because I don't know no one knows anything for sure and that's a fact my dear.
Here comes Fluke because he believes it too. and that's what binds us. Our witness is the empty sky. because we live under it. The empty canvas, paper and paint it with ink and shades of black and white because that is how we keep things simple in the complexity of what's around us and you and everyone. Fluke holds the brush in his hands and I give him the look like luːk and we laugh and laugh and laugh till our stomach hurts and we double over clutching our tummy and again laugh and laugh and laugh till we cry and, begin. the clouds are the steps and there is an invisible door somewhere that can only be seen if one is regardful otherwise you pass it and you won't even feel it. That's the beauty of it. Meticulously crafted door leading into another dimension hanging invisible in the air with an invisible knob and an invisible knock, that is what is coming up now and one should watch carefully.
There are these extraordinary moments of being and not being that flow with the morning air and the Place is alive again. Out and about people walk through the crowd and mingle in the daily commotion of life that defines you me we and this little world made littler by the going-ons of telephone calls and memo notices flying like paper aeroplanes carrying secret messages in codes.
She is always there. standing on tiptoes, eyes wide grinning, expecting, persuading. That's her. Come to me me sweet miss lana banana just like that star the goddess the perfection like lana banana that's her yes it is. And she is talking. in her own language of poems and art and colours that she loves so much and wants to be surrounded by for eternity. little miss lana banana stands before me, coffee in one hand and some old newspaper in another while i look around at the people walking people talking people mocking people… “And hey, so I heard about this wonderful exhibit of sequential art works at this theatre---"; "What, how sequential?"; "You know, sequential.," <rolling eyes again> "Suppose there is this painting and then a poem based on that painting. And then a photograph derived from that poem, then perhaps a song from that photograph and so on. You know 'sequential'," <rolling eyes rolling again>; Why rolling thy eyes!? wondering silently and looking at the same considering the 'sequential art form'. "I see."; "So?"; "---"; "It's like a journey, right?"; "---"- still considering, more like thinking and appreciating it quietly in the folds of my own thoughts and mind and