When its windy, I see him. He is always already waiting, like these lines. Until my fingers touched the keys, the words were nowhere. Then suddenly, they were leaping out; impatient, ready. It is this way with things that I think and see. They are never there and always already there. When the conditions for appearance are right.
Read Phantom City: Buddhism, Culture, and Art
03/30/2007 by Nina Alvarez