This Place

Light falls down like rain, in drifts, torrents ... endless eddies and ripples,
touching the peripheries and edges of place and time, currents of energy infusing
kaleidoscopic sprays of vibrancy and breathing life into moments without connections.
Like blowing the dust from an old reel of monochromatic film, where a single frame is
infused with meaning that reaches outwards, touching, caressing... sifting the weight
of time and space from an endless collection of memory.

Moving without destination, places where the energy has departed, leaving something
resembling a faded photograph from some other life, sifting through pools of time -
knowing that the lack of destination and purpose is in itself a lie, because there
are places you don't go, corners you turn and run into blind alleyways, where the
moments n...