begin

Half sleep, half awake. There is a golden hour in photography. That time, just before the sun sets. Golden. Roaring reds and yellows.

Those seconds before wakefulness, there exists an opportunity for truth. A momentary thinness in the matrix. A sliver of nearness. A possibility.

Meditation follows the pattern. With clarity. Pristine. Surety in the midst of confusion. It is real, that sound, the difference manifest, between banal communication and conciseness.

This is how it starts; I am told by those who know. Searching for meaning in the chaos of life. Through photography, in sleep, by way of meditation.

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