i'm thinking about the times when i kind of zone out, or zone in, and i'm in another place but it's in this place, and the light is winking and the ground breathes and i rise up and float on thermals with birds, or stare at a patch of lichen that's ancient. suddenly i'm in the present of vast circling time. those times sustain like certain pieces music that always make you weep. beyond and within this time, the lichen and the floating birds are indications that remind us we transcend the duration of linear time.

how could it be anything but painful to conceive of our lives as segments, amputated on both ends...              (desert notebooks)

revolution seems to be a concept like paradise that helps with the trauma of empire and time.