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Light as a prayer

The surprise is always the same. I go about my business, I wave at things, and the sun, suddenly, spreads its presence over everyday objects. Then nothing looks like anything anymore. The kneading board becomes a collision chamber where the story of the atoms is played out, resembling an old supernova being agglomerated into a new earth where, one day, a little Jesus-Mahomet will come to announce something new.

Soap bubbles become primordial broth, and matter on other objects is slag abandoned to their inactivity.

Light, the generator of all inspirations and religions, however, forbids me to draw any conclusions. It is rather a serene game, a honeymoon with ramblings, a prayer of hallucinations. It unites without understanding anything, without explaining anything, it gives itself and nourishes.

It’s not surprising that I like the dance of planets and nebulae so much, because the former is order, the latter is chaos, before which one can only close one’s mouth and hypotheses. Name it as you wish, with a lower or upper case letter. Know how to look at it with new eyes without blinding yourself. Ignorance seems to be our only answer; our quest is our only knowledge.

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