... The Current Of Time Slowing Down

Perhaps We All Lose Our Sense Of Reality To The Precise Degree To Which We Are Engrossed In Our Own Work, And Perhaps That Is Why We See In The Increasing Complexity Of Our Mental Constructs A Means For Greater Understanding, Even While Intuitively We Know That We Shall Never Be Able To Fathom The Imponderables That Govern Our Course Through Life.

I Believe That The Black-and-white Photograph, Or Rather The Gray Zones In The Black-and-white Photograph, Stand For This Territory That Is Located Between Life And Death.

The Capital Amassed In The Eighteenth And Nineteenth Centuries Through Various Forms Of Slave Economy Is Still In Circulation, Said De Jong, Still Bearing Interest, Increasing Many Times Over And Continually Burgeoning Anew.

Time, That Most Abstract Of Humanity's Homes.

I Suppose It Is Submerged Realities That Give To Dreams Their Curious Air Of Hyper-reality. But Perhaps There Is Something Else As Well, Something Nebulous, Gauze-like, Through Which Everything One Sees In A Dream Seems, Paradoxically, Much Clearer. A Pond Becomes A Lake, A Breeze Becomes A Storm, A Handful Of Dust Is A Desert, A Grain Of Sulphur In The Blood Is A Volcanic Inferno. What Manner Of Theater Is It, In Which We Are At Once Playwright, Actor, Stage Manager, Scene Painter And Audience?