Homeless in Paris Homeless in Paris | Page 12

B"H
stream let into tributaries the water of which seeps into ground
tables and cones up in wells. I AM the identity I have depicted for
that mo ment in downtown Paris ; throbbing with the Motown
imbibing the spirit of modern dance, and in Israel a member in the
ultra-orthodox society.
How this literature takes form is by applying two syste ms o f
thought: one, the logic mathe matical configuration, and two, the
visual arts such as oil painting. Combining the present as a rea l
time perception within an imagined scenario one may awak e n
within him or herself an inclination to get a feeling of astral travel.
Imagine the brain waves conducted within my mind being e mitted
at a certain frequency and travelling to a specific axis of where
things stood; say in the past. I wrote such a creati on in my book
title: Reaching for Eternity. The thoughts therein follow along a
chronological path, yet can be blown up to full -size if the writer
apply talent to effort: no vanishing point! On the artist's canvas,
the minuscule details of the past fade into a blur at the sides and
at the top of the canvas where in my imagination I am portrayed
in conversation with artists of yore. On other parts of the canvas
different portions of my life. The more clear and close the more
recent occurrences.
Both as concerns the artist's canvas and the author's keyboard
and word processor, we perceive bold lines at the middle and
bottom of the page extend into a blur of light and darkness,
representing the perception of distance fro m the viewer's sight.
Darkness, is not necessarily the absence of light, it is negative
energy relative to a unit of absolute zero on the binary scale. The
combined inclusion of all colors appears as black or white on the
spectrum depending on the presence or absence of light, but
darkness is not a color. Darkness is the cover of time that obscures
history; on a canvas, shades of darkness emphasize distance o f
time or space while black holes consume both. The author intends
to philosophize extensively on that point.
On the table next to which I'm seated in a Café downtown in
Paris, is a red flower, the sa me color as the fire hydrant that I see
outside the window. By diminishing the depth of red, the fire
hydrant appears to be distant. An object closer to one 's visua l
sensitivity, or fondled and smelled, sinks deeper into me mory
when the scene is recalled, as intended by the author or artist who
portrays it. The street sign in downtown Paris is me morialized as
12