That is how it works, there is no secret; the matter communicates in the deepest level now and forever, from here to the time of ancient civilizations which mysteries were hidden in sarcophaguses. The daisy growing in a skull’s eye socket, distinguished plant pot, which halo represents the breath of the caterpillar climbing up the branches of an extinguished prehistoric conifer. My sun is a colleague of your sun; the son of the cannibal tribe singer prays to be out of the phagocytizing circle, in perfect synchrony with the predisposition that entomologists have to appreciate what is invisible to the rest. I see nests on the trees, all over the place; they were there since my zero anniversary, where were my eyes? What kind of particles go through the air, cutting steel as if it would be butter? The same volcano or the same tornado, compiled climatic changes that shook the tiny spaces between the particles inside of my atoms. A slight variation on the sequence of the waves and the history revives with ardent novelty. It is a brand new world that is seizing by doubt; the confusion is replaced by the acknowledgement of the ignorance. Look in the palm of my hand, the sacred path of nature’s scream ramifies on my skin as if me myself would be a brother’s tree, and I have no doubt I am. Exchangeable, wise, differing elements converge in a moment in time, to make of the variety molecular associations, a supreme way to achieve any imaginable combination. B_Nour
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