We do what we do. We did what we did. That is all there is to it. There is no success or failure but only the mere chronology of the deed to be done and done - my breathing, my short existence. That is the ideal state of the ephemeral and infinite trace. Where all there is to it is our heart-wrenching, gripping and gasping need to do - hence, to be. So let us not focus on the past (enough to project forward) or threaten ourselves with the need to manifest the future (it lasts too long). Instead, let us focus on the sentimentality, the emotional and the performative affect the doing has on us and them; On the moment in which one tears without a reason, and the moment when one smiles without a reason. Let the doing be the transitory force that brings us to nowhere but alike the mere washing of our feet for the exchange of immanence and transcendence beneath the doing, let us suspend the binaries and exist with love and peace - the violent possibility that peace brings and the healing sentimentality that love provides. Let us then do, that in doing, multiply the possibilities of grace and chance. All there is to it, is peace within and outside of us - inside it is all calm, outside it is war (man kann auch auf Deutsch lesen).
Do you.
Written while listening to
Rachmaninov ~
Piano Concerto No. 1 in F sharp minor - Vivace
Do you.
Written while listening to
Rachmaninov ~
Piano Concerto No. 1 in F sharp minor - Vivace
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