New Year 2012

IN THE WIND
Oblige desire to live another year of force or caress of the wind. It avoids the tired mind to have only mechanics of reason to regulate movement. The action?
One reason that could have imagination, but that only believes itself and its ability to understand and program time.
Organization chart of names and functions. Of oncepts and intellect, unable to smile.
Fortunately the wind carries the souls, bodies and the gods without boxes to go into.

Submitting to wind or resisting to it and forward still as strong as its strength. Becoming a sheet of paper carried in air. Whose words drawn, printed, moist and cold, empty, hot, frozen in the ice of its laziness to not wanting to be ordered in time or second time.

Mondaytuesdaywedneddaytursdayfridaysaturdaysunday.
You do not know what day it is?
The disease is near. Degeneracy is there.
Mondaytuesdaywedneddaytursdayfridaysaturdaysunday.
Why not every day Sunday, as the song?
Januaryfebruarymarchaprilmayjunejulyaugustseptemberoctober-novenberdecember fuck you.

If every darkness of night and every brightness of day don't rhythm to the little house with its lonely light bulb in the empty room, in which we will never know
if it is in twilight of a day without glare or night without darkness.
If fog of water or sand becomes a force that no breath of air seems to rise up.
If the song is becoming muffled and distant to be confused with the distant muffled sounds of a invisible landscape.

We do not care and we become the wind.

Jean Loup Pivin, january 2012