Subtraction

I remove myself from her.

Emptiness—

My emptiness is the inherent singularity of being.

Her emptiness is the lack of me that is generated when her hair is tangled into knots.

She removes herself from me.

Sameness—

You see yourself reflected in her movements and form.

She sees you as a game. You play together. You are children.

When we are together—some random three—not random at all, things flow. Who are they?

What was said?

Strangness—

I will go now. Have a safe onwards journey. I’ll see you soon.

Becoming and process surely—

For now I’m a process. I’ve always been a process.

A long ago memory, not my own: the headteacher and his staff have the overwhelming support of the parents, as shown in the very positive response in the returned questionnaires.

Psychology: action, cognition and perception, he says is abductive inference. Can I disagree?

So the bit that thinks…some unfolding process occurs. I’m falling in front of myself. The front is time. Still stability is illusory, surely—

An abstract notion follows me—non-representational and floating in mind—analogy is at the heart of thinking. Analogy on top of analogy on top of metaphor.

Father to father, child to child, button to symbol…

My analogy of the evening: to write is to walk in the landscape of the self.

Walking lost in a wood you stumble upon her again: realisation. Am I losing my mind? Or am I finding veins in a leaf—?