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61164 mountain rain.

Let us listen for a brief while to the sound of a spring rainstorm arriving, and then receding, in the city of Mestia, the regional capital of Georgia’s Svaneti.

61115 market street.

In this recording, we happen upon a busy market street in

61108 ultimata.

Yes. We have heard the warning. We have failed to winnow the good from the bad. We are carrying on the best that we can. Overhead it billows with reddish smoke. The flames are licking at our heels. We are running away as swiftly as our legs can carry us.

61039 blanking interval.

I saw something. I wasn’t sure that I saw it. I didn’t know what it was. Maybe it meant something. I cannot say.

60901 memory leak.

I ask you, how many tellings, after a pause, begin again with:

60897 fulgent ascent.

There are many ambiguities that we struggle with, seeming as keys to various everyday mysteries. Living thus in confoundment, we probe incessantly, an often futile task that nonetheless sometimes at random and unexpectedly affords us the occasional instant, wherein the dark mists clear, and there takes place a permanent change in understanding.

60943 phase invert.

Birds are flying overhead.

60890 echoes of light.

In the whisper of a passing moment, almost unnoticed, you detect the

60854 indirection.

The thought pierces your awareness: The destination you seek is nigh as your path sidles the edge of a dark glade, into which it veers a bit ahead. Your eardrums tickle with the intuition that something goes on within, but concretely what you could not say. It strikes you, too, that you are being observed, by someone who may — or may not — be your adversary.

60720 as yet untitled.

„On a day when the wind is blowing, be certain to listen for the surfaces it touches and the things it carries away.