Space soft as a woman's hand belongs to speed. Gradually one draws nearer to scrub-lands and markets. The depth of the Market-halls is less than that of the Pacific Ocean. The thick, much-thumbed books become abandoned shells full of earth. On the agate banisters and the moving trackways are to be noticed little chalked-up stars, which have ever signified the nostalgia of upholsterers and seamen.
Antiquity is a partly pearl-lustered fountain but the sphinxes' bosoms have turned green.
The prisons' horizontal hailstorm, that marvelous bunch of keys, prevents us from seeing the sun . It feels strange to those of us born and bred in a very linear culture. Through this project you may discover some of the webs of associations that resonate deep below your own conscious surface. With any luck, some of the energy of the images you produce will rhizome their way across into your more arborescent writing.