Blind Staggers
Imagine yourself in a large city and perceiving the arrangement of houses as an accumulated syntax of a long, very long, utterance.
First you come across a baroque cathedral.
A big black bulk drinks your eyes on the outside – the inside remains an entirely separate realm full of viscous milky light. The sensuality and excess of the building is pregnant with the promise of another world and this glutinous light is the medium that can take you there. Looking on – or entering such a strong material presence to elicit the numinous feels like grinding your teeth on moist cotton and listening to its squeaking reverberate in your skull – this is how we carve out consonants from solid matter.
Your next encounter is with a modern building.
A mesh of refractions bend the light and swallow your reflection. You can see yourself amid a dizzying whirl of office furniture before you enter the building and the steady drizzle of strip-lights leads the mind away from the senses. This light is hard and it moves inconceivably fast – it will not take you anywhere according to the latest theories. Inevitably getting lost or loosing oneself in such a place evokes all the airy mutability of vowels.
Receding back to a great distance, one can imagine looking back at these constructions and comprehending, for the first time, this long utterance that remains inaccessible to our time-bound senses.
Stanislav Boca: The Bones in the Things.