Journal - Journeys

Kampot river market long ago and far away

Where the bad people hung heads as a warning 1975-1979

Hungry ghosts

Old haunts discover language light zones

Paint with light

Familiar stranger

Vocal chords produce conversations magic music

Laughter’s labyrinth

Meditate on emptiness

Self directed kid

Zen arrow

Talented people hit the target others can’t

Genius hits the target others can’t see

Want

Need

Market light energies

Golden chickens

Silver fish

Lost and confused simple kind locals

Noodle mama mystery buy / sell eye candy

Shuffling teddy bear pajamas sing voice wind

Intersection of Durian fish gold fabric

Blind string man creates haunting music

His daughter leads him by pulling his shirt forward

They wander broken cement market paths

Echo lament notes drift into / through ears

Unconscious ice melts

Dead kind eyes stare at a stranger

Scribbling non-sense data...laughter's memory

Japanese tourists wear black and white cotton elephant pants

Cheaper than ivory tusks

In heavy carry-on emotional baggage

Rain quality

Market energies dance light

Community flow excellence

Relationship b/t you and your experience

Empathy

Fragments

Live a meaningful life

Hunter with optics

Breathe and squeeze

No form or substance

Excellence

Non-duality

Singularity

You are a stream-winner

Raindrops

Samuel Beckett minimal absurdity

Your begging bowl

Wanders floating world

Memory market hum

Her New World Order

t-shirt danced past...a woman with basket of bread, a woman gently slicing then chopping bacon, a woman scaling silver fish, a woman dividing coconuts, an old woman negotiating passages with her begging bowl, a man carrying bananas on his thin back,

a woman fingering REAL notes, lost humans inspecting hope despair laughter and song,

girls doing a pedicure, a woman polishing red apples,

shadows dancing with impermanence,

spoons stabbing ice, glittering silver stars on a headscarf reflect elegant universe

The world is illusion

Just sitting

Experience

One day = one year

One year = one day

street photography |

07.17.2021 |

tm leonard |

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Sunday

Jul042021

Floating

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I'm one of those people who has learned through living

that there is nothing and nobody in this life to cling to.

I am a metaphor looking for meaning.

I feel free to move away from safe familiar places

and keep moving forward to new unexplored areas of life.

Drifting some would say.

Floating.

If I had one red cent for every time someone asked me when I’d settle down I could afford a world hypothesis! Settling down was not an option.

Yes. I could bid on blessings.

I’d sacrifice pre-linguistic symbols and create silent metaphorical abstractions.

My linguistic skills would evolve into love into discursive logic.

26,000 year-old Paleolithic iron and copper paintings create

a secret symphony of ancient magic stories in a Spanish cave.

No lengthy drawn out off-the-wall abstract

explains my small empty happy self to anybody

by virtue of who I was, am, and will be.

Life is a palimpsest.

“There are only two stories in the world,” Leonardo said to the Moroccan. They carried boarding cards through the Casablanca terminal. “A stranger arrives in a village or a stranger leaves a village.”

“Yes,” said Omar, a blind writer overhearing their conversation, “we might add there are also stories about love between two people, stories about love between three people and stories about the struggle for power. Stories are about characters revealing emotion through dialogue and action.”

He handed Leonardo a pile of yellow papers wrapped in rushes.

“A gift for you. It contains a farrago of evidence. Keep it simple.”

“Thank you.” Where do I find you?”

“In the caves south of Ronda. It’s a long walk.” He disappeared into Baraka.

A Century is Nothing