9″ x 12″ Watercolor, ink
It’s all a passage. Winding, hallways with so many doors, opening to so many other hallways, can only chose one of the many, and then again, one of the many, and then again, and the maze, from passage to passage, no matter how elaborate the labyrinth, always brings one to the same end.
I see so many people on the street–all… all living in a dream. They don’t see–the passage — this time — is for all of us. Old men like me. The babies in the strollers… all of us. There will be no posterity to remember us after. No one to wonder at the marvelous horses and bison on the cave walls. Bach… on one of the voyagers…
on it’s way to nowhere
This is it.
Because we are so determined that it will not, cannot happen.. guarantees… that it will.