The oldest memories that I have retained & my ability to retain new memories & still find even more interrelationships in their creation is the result of the effects of Monica’s intellectual & creative life upon my own intellectual & creative life. Each of us is a center which as evidence shows can be disappointingly solipsistic.

What Monica’s voyage into space amplifies is that she’s always been working from 5-fold forbidden crystal symmetries & the 360 degrees which surround us & our solipsistic selves, 360 degrees which we perenially take for granted. A prison of desires & unknowns.

Monica is my orbit & my sun & this is a perfect event & time scale, which at least for the time being is a fact which is universal in all of limited human experience.

How is it possible that an artist could conjure her own creations in her image just to leave it all behind.

Alex told me a few days ago about my Monica talking about seven paintings & I feel like this is a retrocausal event, a prediction. Look at everything that happened on April 7th and look at how we list sevens in multitudes: of course with 268 days left in the year, more sevens.

I was also born on July 16th, another set of sevens. & when she repeated her birth date February 22nd 1938 over & over was she asking not to participate in Samsara or an eternal return?

Does this say something about histories which are her creation, histories which I saw reflected in the gold amber of her eyes, or histories spilling from them as new tragedies and old tragedies.

As I she is also a Tiger, we were both born in the year of the Tiger and even the red garnet gloss that she painted her nails with sought futures in numbers; there is no past only the irreversible so she’s both past and future negative and positive, she multiplies. I talk about her now and a past that may or may not have existed, but she exists more than ever so I can’t name her in the past, as we all know only the future can name things.

Whether it was her small paintings with figures as fragile as the dance of her inner revolutions or everything she had planned for I and Alex hour by hour, day by day, itinerary by itinerary, she had that striking & glorious magnetic face directed towards only one thing: the future.
I am feeling suffocated by all I am recollecting in the limited time for me to frame her place in space but I always knew she wasn’t of this world, so it’s safe to say, to expect- the same of my position in her dimension.

Were we in the past or the future in Florence underneath the Virgin Mary painting, my hand mimicking the virgin & infant’s halos.

Were we in the past or future in Japan in the Zen Gardens of Kyoto the silver rhythms and numbers of her own heart spilling & laying down the cosmos, filling bamboo cups. A heart which she had remarked herself is such a beautiful heart. Only just a few years ago when she thought the future was after her again she saw a photograph of her heart & she cried & marvelled at the strength of her heart, it made her envision an eternal future.

If I’m drained of life it’s because she isn’t finished with me yet. If I’m lost among the roses it’s because I haven’t met the snake yet and I’m not ready for my own voyage to return to her, to return to Monica, to myself, to you. It makes you wonder, if you had known her would you have known yourself, I think so. Does a Janus know a Janus.

Were we on this Earth, an Earth which is now dying, but not by design; it is always our own ignorance & refusal of the 360 degrees which eliminates our solipsistic cell to reveal the significance of the future.

And I have so much more to say and I will say it and I will say it in her honor and I am the creator of the seven paintings and I know their secrets and how the impossible will come to be. Just like Monica did. & I will “go, go, go” just as she told me to, because "said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.”

& now “the fire & the Rose are one.”

Are we in the past or the future. This is her equation, so she got you right.