Architecture of Cities: (PI) Π-Π-Π

The umbilical cord that is pi (π): The canvas extends more than five-hundred years: From Albrecht Dürer to Anselm Kiefer: Paint strokes in the manners of all colors and light become a collective dream: Like swallowing 10 short tons of oxygen: Then again:

The umbilical cord that is pi (π): Lin-Miranda Manuel’s Hamilton and Benny Goodman’s Rhapsody in Blue take their cues; The ghosts of two men decades apart, train ride in tandem (Lin-Manuel to Brooklyn and Goodman to Boston): The rambling rhythms generate  revelatory creative  might: The revelations are again like swallowing 10 short tons of oxygen: The tales of my imaginations are verifiable to everything we might know and might see:

My eyes embrace everything afar and near: My captures styled like mathematical and scientific sequences: Endless combinations enhanced with every dream before I snap: Photography’s science; iso-f-stop-and apertures computed as in a marriage with the mathematical timing: The mechanical and visual experiences come full circle each day: All of my captures again will come alive while swallowing 10 short tons of oxygen:

I awaken moorless in all of my days: My eyes newly transfixed- -again! (My own Groundhog’sDay:) The camera muster’s a Darwinian conviction at breakneck-breathtaking speed to master a moment awaiting in the city at my feet; Everything ahead. The lens not seen hovers repeatedly above and below: I reclaim realities’ dream to see: Imagine capturing an unseen reality. Not to see sameness but see what is not us. I dream of such things with and without my camera in hand:

Every country and city are the same until they are not: I enter and exit exactly the same way upon each landing each crossing: I am met by my intended rendition of architecture: Something great or something to become- – Either way my anxious exuberance explodes quietly unseen: Swallowing 10 short tons of oxygen- -feeling more than often like one-hundred tons: It is that emphasis on discovery that makes the “snaps” come alive: A hint of pi (π) in mind I do pause: There is no end to my journeys, as there is no relative end to pi (π). The possibility indicates that I could meet my earthly beginning or possibly an unearthly ending is more than slightly depressing: I continue.

I create a world that feels real but might not be: The whale in me travels at great speeds: For a single 60th second capture there is a secular rapture: I investigate the partial seconds allowed: No country, no city is too big: I move quickly: My entire experience is to imagine tagging along with the HMS Beagle until I am moored and decommissioned: My endgame.

This circuitous journey towards my dreams truth returns me to pi(π): I circle around and back again:

I could never lose this ebb and flow or what may be natures’ natural pace; My camera explores explores the moments I need to address: I might find myself adrift as in Rilke’s, “Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower.” I could not, would not fathom nothingness: The Blue Whale is me, as any Blue Whale may attest- – I continue: The architecture awaits the camera’s excavation: There is more.