The Hollow Wall. Is what I dreamt wide awake to be the transition between pure idea and our reality, this matter ridden space. It is the barrier between God-Idea and Matter-crafted. A space of no space. Infinite and nowhere. Here, but never to be. Where artists and scientists roam, exist. Where memes are the life-supporting bacteria. Here lingers the unmade dreams of future practitioners of art and science. Here stirs the collapsed relics of pre-antiquarian concepts. Always dynamic, movement is freedom, lightning is its rain. And it holds only that one season. Forever it pours, uneven and lunatic, sensible and dangerous, pungent and vivid and vague. The Hollow Wall.
My Home.
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