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The Exodus

Updated: Aug 1, 2023



The image reveals a group of exiled travellers following their path over a fallen tree.


The journey is long, and the way passes through diverse lands. The guide always points to the same place, somewhere in the distance, a peculiarity jutting into the horizon like a monolithic exclamation mark or a lingam. Around and through the landmarks, the rooted rocks, the ancient watching trees, there are layers of space, the stratum of dreams, humming, a subtle feminine hum, an almost silent song sung to babies as they sleep. The world is alive as much as you are alive, says the guide; in his palm he has a pinch of dust, and the tiny crystals twinkle brighter than stars. We will keep going this way, towards the end. We know we will never arrive. How long have we journeyed without ever arriving?


We need somewhere to go in the world. We need the direction. He is always in the distance, forever out of reach, but we need him all the same. We need him so that we can pass through space, so that we can feel her presence, maintaining the world. She bares the weight of his ten thousand things. Wise to this, we make the exodus of our lives following the guide, willingly and without burden.



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