After a week of being spun in circles breathing in the visual images my mind is eventually assimilating and sifting out what I can and can not not process the textures the smell the colored flowers in abundance. This creative space begins to wind it’s way in to the structural network ..to open up the mind .. So in a few days to reflect my perceptions let me try in the visual …color hear is different the light is yellower and all the tonal plays of light play with the senses the flow of fabric wrapped around the woman’s bodies ancient modernity passed down for generations with the essence of beauty that seems to fold and unfold . The mixture of tradition is exquisite how the chalk mark clean houses .. The romanticism of India when a husband returns from work he buys a row of fresh flowers and his wife puts them in water to wear in her hair the next day … The Unimaginable fragrance of flowers is like nothing I’ve ever experienced .consciously findings …interpretations
Rhythms rhythm In speech below constitute the history of language its very soul I’d said to be very fine threads wound thousands of times In the sheath of. A rope this rhythm they say is the intimate order of thought its silent architecture it’s reason for being as in all true literature. does this begin here