This formidable mecca stands before me.
Towering from this concrete craned city
The sunlight bathes it is a holy light.
Cathedral to my world.
My artist does not belong in this fashion queue.
I mouse squeak.
I mouse scowl.
The sky is bigger than reality.
Grey shining slabs of lighted stone reach out.
Squares of vastness
Squares of symmetry and structure and sameness.
This vat of creative energy potentially excites my beginning.
There is no fire.
The writing is wrong.
This will be a beginning.
To escape mouse?
To swim . see.
I know how to start but the finish line is far far away.
This sun is standing above this temple and I am wondering what will become.
Waiting and wasting is not the point.
The point is what is in my mind.
Cenrtal St Martins.
Kings Cross.
2011.
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