Our very first memories are ones made of hand me downs. mostly from a time we cannot recall. These are the cornerstones in which we add onto. I see ourselves as edited bloodlines, inherited brief moments that expand all of the worlds alternate realities. Are we a blueprint made more solid with each retelling? Is our existence evidence of a written fiction? Constructed upon a foundation handed down with language and image. To be told of our unfolding yet unchanging pathway.
Writing is not just an escape from reality but an attempt to change reality, so the writer can escape the limits of reality. The process involves a reversal of our ordinary understanding that causes produce effects. The cause must precede its effect in present time yet it must be presently existent in order to be active in producing its effects.
TIME: The imaginary mass Exists.Holding up mirrors reflection, skrying for intent. Lost in the bottomless pit. Matter simply condensed from atoms that had split, returning to the nearest blackhole. Our main sequence star collapses upon itself, yet takes years to see the aftermath.the side effects and birth defects. The word proceeds to infect, left with itself a symbolic reminder of its original intent, now only ascension can one come to detect. How thin this veil has become, that separates two different worlds.