Sunlight drifts to skin surface, warming. Mist touches foliage, seeps through surface; inside, outside, and through. Fleeting sensations provide a route to reality, a concrete, direct experience. Soft, soft, reality brushes by. We are left with words and images; representations that can point to truth but cannot touch it. Representations that do not contain existence, they sit empty. They can only be themselves and point to what they cannot be. Focus on this pointing. Keep a gentle reality in view. A reality that fades in and out of the periphery and is found again through constant perspective shifts.
