A plain of color over brown, water seeping into the tiny folds, rivulets, crystallized…
Taking their own path, then: apprehended…
Who is the guide?
* * *
No other life but this…
* * *
Stillwater…
* * *
To describe a painting, to return to that moment—where the off-gray will coalesce into a kind of mist—an atmosphere—without meaning, but understood…
* * *
A forest. Kampinos, outside Warsaw, early autumn. The Polish fields, taut air. An expedition, grzyby—Roman, his girlfriend (did she not limp?), myself, a bystander cow… Welcomed into a life…
And a past as well…
* * *
Later in the day…
(18 September 2009)
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