London @April 2011
Saturday evening, surfing the tube toward the north of London, again the micro universe opend its ports: the tube experience.
For years, inevitably, I already used the tube within London for changing places and words and fragrances and spaces and subcultures and theorems and sounds and memories and prophecies and continents and tastes and images and deepness and openness. The tube has been my vehicle of transgression, even at the first glance absolutely not spectacular, but repetitive and, therefor, persistent, a way to come somewhere else. From Boomsburry to South Harrow, it is not a journey, it is, indeed, a shift of Weltanshauung.
Meeting the family of my oncle for dinner, it became obvious, I was travelling through places and times. He, at his end seventhies, may be less or may be more, immediately timeless, was as cool as ever. Clear visioned toward surrounding worlds ( cave: world with s), with a deep insight in our secrets we are not aware of them, relaxed in despite of time, living in many dimensions and as a person very nice and agreeable. Mr. Tayeb is convergence of pure awareness ot today, culminated histories, strange stories, adherent to the past, which is reality / illusions/ intensity. Witnessing early mornings of birth in those old times (in his case mine, and many other), days of joy and sadness, nights of nostalgia, the wind, and the breath. He is a kind of extension of our memories under the passionsless passing of times we experienced and inevitable transformations of places we lived in.
Saturday evening, surfing the tube toward the north of London, again the micro universe opend its ports: the tube experience.
For years, inevitably, I already used the tube within London for changing places and words and fragrances and spaces and subcultures and theorems and sounds and memories and prophecies and continents and tastes and images and deepness and openness. The tube has been my vehicle of transgression, even at the first glance absolutely not spectacular, but repetitive and, therefor, persistent, a way to come somewhere else. From Boomsburry to South Harrow, it is not a journey, it is, indeed, a shift of Weltanshauung.
Meeting the family of my oncle for dinner, it became obvious, I was travelling through places and times. He, at his end seventhies, may be less or may be more, immediately timeless, was as cool as ever. Clear visioned toward surrounding worlds ( cave: world with s), with a deep insight in our secrets we are not aware of them, relaxed in despite of time, living in many dimensions and as a person very nice and agreeable. Mr. Tayeb is convergence of pure awareness ot today, culminated histories, strange stories, adherent to the past, which is reality / illusions/ intensity. Witnessing early mornings of birth in those old times (in his case mine, and many other), days of joy and sadness, nights of nostalgia, the wind, and the breath. He is a kind of extension of our memories under the passionsless passing of times we experienced and inevitable transformations of places we lived in.
