Sometimes the modernity of things surprises me. As if I fell into this world of cool colors. Earth tones providing for a new sense of elegance when the primordial nature of things has been completely lost.

We place trees strategically, contemporary warmth derived from designs birthed centuries ago on factory floors. Iron and wood, and the color of rust pretend to suggest a legacy of use.

         Everyone should have a stone, to hold and cradle within one’s hand. Or so was told as a child, but this is the Age of the Facade.

Language returns daily to forms that would recall the lost languages comprehensible with new appreciations for dots and dashes and misappropriations of meaning. It is as though we are standing on the brink of a digression into babel, a modern age, in which all things are recycled and reformed.

         Something must be lost in this process, I am sure of this,
and perhaps, also        a stone in one’s hand.

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