l look around in thought noticing its two ends and myself in between.
Like the past and the future in a contact of reciprocity.
I stretch my hair in two directions, bobbing my head in a "no" gesture to the observer,
calculating in my mind when to stop.
The length of the stretched time is just emphasising.
All the "yeses" have agreed to one "no."
Still art stops time in detail.
Presence blurs in the face of the stopped thought of future days.
Departing and incoming time records itself in a different sense.
New cognitive paths decree to me the existence of a world, another world.
© N.