Uncertainty.

It was a dark night of the soul, hopelessly hunting down the embers of a project that lay now in shreds amidst the arrogance and the impunity and the crimes of generations. It was the coldest, longest night of the year, no poetry here – this particular winter solstice was tinged with pain and it throbbed with resentment. Autodigest screamed his lungs off, turning all around into deafening cynicism. Hours earlier, seduction and longing had precluded what was about to come. A false start anticipating the splendour of the following day – magic, hope, euphoria, enchantment. In that order. Six months on to the day, we again cross the tightrope… and despite the angst, the tightrope vibrates with enchantment. There is adventure, even though of the painful persuation, and for adventure one shall always be grateful.

I once asked Robert Fripp, in reply to the challenge to formulate a burning question: how can we accept uncertainty? His answer was an inevitable conundrum: thou shalt accept uncertainty should thou have faith in the creative process. Now it finally makes sense: life as a creative act. So distant from the cynicism that permeates contemporary culture. Not Wilde’s or Baudelaire’s “Life as Art” either, but rather Life as Love, Intensity, Force and Energy. These were initials LM, JW and myself have been considering. Others may make it to the final version. LIFE, the project, will materialise one enchanted day.

To A.R.: Stay Strong.

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