WANDERING I
At times like this I wander. Just in my mind, mind you. But very far afield. So there I was suddenly amongst the brooding structures of the astronomical observatories at Jantar Mantar in India. Their forms evidently a colloquy with the cosmos. Massive sun dials, achingly beautiful arches, dishes that gather in the metaphysical signals. Somehow impossible. Or improbable.
And amidst this reverie, the oneiric echo. The brooding Indian forms somehow elide with the streetscapes of de Chirico and the wandering picks up pace. De Chirico’s inhabitation of the memory plays games, since these are scenes that sit on the edge of my consciousness. They are fragments of the surreal part of a real journey - the tour as mentioned previously in writing on arcade-ian beauty. But no, not India. I have never been there. Yet the structures are as fully palpable in the dreams … enough to live on, for now, but fuel for a yearning to visit … a pilgrimage …
