Turtles

A deep cut within, a deep cut in the possibility of healing from the outside. The world is my healing. Adrift, senseless, purposeless I go out in the open lands to look for what does not belong in the order of things, what is not important, what lays insignificant, what awaits to be found, what comes to pass. Being away, lost in the strangeness of the unfamiliar, I constantly look for home but never return to it. It is said that tortoises crawl about on red earth, going nowhere in plenty of time. They carry their own home with them forever. The power of recalling and rebuilding memory from the non-existent. Where there is no place to go and nothing to become; the being-ness of human freedom.

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