A pleasing linguistic assembly that stirs some deep yearning.
Or an ordinary experience that maps effortlessly to a powerful reminissence.
Some person in whose presence we are momentarily immersed in a rich, imaginary realm of full possibility and total, uncompromising living.
The things that resonate. You can’t say exactly why but you know at a gut level are somehow important.
Less external motivation and more an internal realignment. The unfolding of something already inside of us. A hint of a dormant quality hibernating in dense bone marrow.
Four years ago I had the privilege of an aimless night-time stroll through central Tokyo. A few hours wandering freely through the intricate geometry of perhaps the most otherworldy metropolis on earth.
At some point it occurred to me that literally everything around me, had been built, planned and imagined by another human being.
Every single piece of this vast, unyielding urban configuration, the most colossal interface between humanity and nature, had it’s origin in some faceless and unknowable individual.
One individual amongst millions of others and nontheless each a creator in some small way. The architecture a very real and concrete embodiment of once intangible knowledge.
Even the most perfunctory and repressive design elements of the streetscape had its genesis in the mind of a fellow I.
Now, in writing this is the most banal, unoriginal thought. Yet in the moment of inception it felt ripewith possibility.
Imagine. Imagine Immensities.