“Try to exclude the possibility of suffering which the order of nature and the existence
In the deeply angled sunlight of an Autumn afternoon, two farmers wearing overalls and baseball caps hang by their necks from an old oak tree at the crossroads where we turn to reach the campground. They’re dummies of course, it’s close to Halloween; I try to be amused, pondering this peculiarly American holiday, a time when Shadow is allowed out to play. “It’s healthy”, I think, “an opportunity to laugh in the face of what’s loathsome.” It’s a skill, I conclude, I lack.
Dancing in the Dark, I’ve been firming up, digging deep into what lies below. The threads that weave this journey are dark blues, purples and deep red – the color of congealed blood. It’s a moody hue, but it’s flecked with glittering threads and mirrors too.