In every journey there is a moment when everything becomes endless, when you reach the threshold of continual arrival. You find yourself meditating with your eyes open, turned inside-out, yielding to immediacy.
At this moment, your vision becomes extremely clear. The smallest insect on a picnic table suddenly manifests the most excruciating detail. Every sound is extremely close, vibrating the air around it.
As the forest opens up, a vista expands with seeming infinite depth of field – this mirrors the interior landscape in a series of shifting horizons. Vast storms, warm wind, sultry beams of late summer light all travel freely. Everything is momentary, and time becomes malleable.
The duration of the journey and the topography it traverses become operations rather than obstacles. Moments echo themselves, yet each is absolutely singular.