ZONE:I
The place cannot be grasped.
No map, no boundaries —
only inner passages,
mental expanses away from the world.
“…then he leans down to gather the shadow of a step,
a modest trace of a journey completed.”
This is not a beginning.
It is a transition without form,
a pulse of absence.
It is a transition without form,
a pulse of absence.
Paths lead nowhere,
they fall.
Like a language that withdraws.
they fall.
Like a language that withdraws.
Between territories and matter,
a path unfolds
without certain direction.
a path unfolds
without certain direction.