Philosophy Poetry Madness — Dust
We must imagine Sisyphus happy.
Camus
If there is any dust left over from the covid pandemic, much of it is dust swept under the rug. More neglected dust of our lives, neglected for the sake of a brand-new fantasy, or at least it pretends to be new. It is actually tired and old, repetitive and cruel, and dusty itself but will not admit it.
Feel free to share this, especially if you feel that we are in a perpetual spinning machine, burying us along with all of its dust as it spins along.
A human being-question chasing after both God and nothingness. The internet is a disaster, but our starlessness might teach us something. I welcome our constant experimenting with ourselves with open arms, for ultimately they are attempts of life at living and growing in life. My dwelling is in Key West, while the dwellings of my loves are Indiana, New Mexico, Texas, Massachusetts and Arizona. These spaces are nothing. Love abides and love embraces. View all posts by Richard Q
Love the Dust