Dubai in transition.
My gaze was frozen alive: A modern ancient world spanned across continents: Twenty-four hours measured as if a lifetime: Dhaka, Dubai and New York City posed for my captures: Ten Lenticular clouds danced quietly and aloud above and about: I was reminded of Picasso’s beach parasol hovering and shading over Jacqueline: You could hear the sounds and listen for the shadows:
A Mesopotamian cartographer heard whispers of silence: Sumerian and Akkadian ghosts marched in step: The ancients like band members joined in the play: My mind had nipped a scratch on a 78 LP: A carousel in rewind of a living history spun around a maypole: My eyes lived in centuries before and centuries to follow: The Queens Gambit on steroids appeared: Across territorial landscapes pawns and queens moved with dynamism at warp speed: Beth Harmon (the protagonist) display was not for the faint of hearts: Walter Tevis was my Merlin: Manipulating each move across naked terrains as if in a silent movie: Each move seen but not heard: My eyes were alerted to new captures: Antiquities appeared: Intergalactic possibilities appeared: This was no Walden pastoral: This was me trying to figure out each and very move with my silent bumbling heroic comedic sidekicks Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin in tow: It was as if I was dodging energy bubbles to get where I needed to be: Time is never a friend: Twenty-four hours to conquer three cities became a window of trapezoids peering into my selective passions:
Contemporary Mosque in Dhaka, Bangladesh.
I dream again: My irises feel the melding colors from cityscapes atop: The colors I have seen, have never been mine alone: There is my next chess move: Maybe twenty to twenty-five moves ahead are planned: Like Merlin’s magical potions: His elongated fingers were creating moves to see: The exotic spell like dreams reminded me of another master with elongated fingers: The former Russian Grandmaster chess champion Mikhail Tal had legendary powers: Once under his influence, his magistral visions for board play could easily be a template for me: Imagine moving across multiple urban arenas with plans to anticipate ideas not seen: Imagine to assemble an army of ideas to see globally across metropolises for a lifetime: Can you hear the power of silence:
“I’ve had a lot af worries in my life, most of which never happened.”
-Mark Twain
Zaha Hadid: The Opus by Omniyat.
On most days, a cascading plunge of seeable words and dreams appear: I pluck a single word from that memory: The word may or may not spawn another: Until I begin:
Jack Kerouac’s Satori in Paris, plays havoc with my visual consciousness daily: Satori is an affliction: I have chased after meanings about meanings for an entire career: There are no accidents just moments: Every time I lift a device to see my world I inhale: Exhale follows a bit later: Time takes time: I just need to know if I have found what I am looking for: The whispers silently continue: I exhale:
Dreams become memories: Memories become captures: I make another move: Color is seen: A sound may be heard: I see: I move in or afar: I capture: Memories remember more dreams:
The Flatiron New York City.
