#eye #eye


home i, 23/6/20 - 20/7/20

6.25am, recorded out my window, third floor apartment.

myna birds, kookaburras, magpies, unidentified birds, trains, some traffic.

art has no immediate future, because all art is
collective and there is no more collective life

just after solstice it’s dark at this time. i live opposite a park,
one of my favourite sounds are the kookaburra calls at dawn,
a counterpoint rising, spilling, bursting.
(the other is the wonky church bell melody played on Sunday,
though the bells haven’t donged since late March).

up and down. this week
watching parsley grow in its pot / watching frustration grow in my body.
i’ve been thinking about waste, unwanted material, of no further ‘use’.
the green we see in trees is the leftover light they cannot process,
green is their waste-matter.
it’s hard to imagine a tree without its green. light reflecting back at us.
the tree has no ‘use’ for it,  nor do we.

there’s a lot of information i can’t process right now, does it colour my aura?

buried, using soil from the park, in a small pot on the balcony.
watering the growth along with the others.

*Simone Weil, First and Last Notebooks

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