Fountain 0. Landevennac, Brittany 19th July

The incidentals at the start of a journey easily fade from instant recall and their place in the story is skipped over. Maybe they become a disjointed adjunct to a dream or maybe what shoots past one's eyes in the "I saw my whole life pass before me" near death moment. Statistically, as a motorcyclist, I should have several of these moments to quickly review my life. And therefore, should count myself lucky.

          2 pm.  Mother, daughter and granddaughter walk past in what has been an otherwise
                     empty square.

             2:15 pm.      My lucky coin rests before plunging into the depths where wishes,                 formed and unformed, stew and brew in an alchemical limbo before

they take shape on the material plane.   

                                                                       Miro 

                       "Truth is brand new. Truth is like for a matador the instant confrontation". 
   

           An extensive exhibition of Miro's prints, paintings and sculptures in a vast, unpopulated space. I drifted in a daze. My elbow creases creaking, like the seats of a snazzy car, whenever I'd lift  my arms to take photos or brush the hair from my eyes. Having nothing particular to do except  fill the days and coming weeks with impressions, I open all my senses.

              Exhibition catelogue -

                     "Miro offers us a cosmic theory inviting us to move around 

                       and connect to the energy of celestial matter".     

                     

               4:35pm.    I moved and connected.