This is not a good photo. I couldn’t get out of the car and attempt a proper photo, the letter box stands right by a traffic light and words on walls and urban equipments tend to vanish quickly, so you get them when you spot them.
Pause and reflect on the [your / mine] path
That’s how it reads to me. That’s what’s lacking, the time to stop and try to see the direction.
Our century is so shallow, its desires scattered so widely, our knowledge so encyclopedic, that we are absolutely unable to focus our designs on any single object and hence, willy-nilly, we fragment all our works into trivia and charming toys. We have the marvellous gift of making everything insignificant.
Nikolai Gogol (1809 – 1852)
I hate how I don’t feel real enough unless people are watching.
Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters
Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.
Metropolitan Museum of Art, a night in January
Eyes blinded by the fog of things
cannot see truth.
Ears deafened by the din of things
cannot hear truth.
Brains bewildered by the whirl of things
cannot think truth.
Hearts deadened by the weight of things
cannot feel truth.
Throats choked by the dust of things
cannot speak truth.
Harold Bell Wright, The Uncrowned King
And yet, there is no amount of self help books, “keep it simple” formulas or declutter instructions that will tame the maximalist in me.
A euphemism for self-indulgence most probably.
might prevent me from going back
but sometimes light the way forward