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Notes toward South Korea

I forget that it isn't urbanity.
The space of the orchids and their slowness.
I forget that all time dependencies are out
Of fashion, the cabbie driving the streets whose paved I don't believe same as the stoplights,
Close packed heat from biology up to squared concrete.
Tell me again how I am not future material.
Zig zag or straight, chilly sunlight, ruffles or purple petals. "You've got to write it all down." To evoke is enough, is its own purpose, though it's been done before to raise words like music instead of one's own voice. It takes loss of sleep on someone else's floor and lots of flowers.
I'd like it not to depend on perception alone but I don't know enough. "here is place for clearing
his idea passage for someone who regards him as a bird can fly freely"
celadon inlay pots with stairlike protrusions "began to be made" as though people were not making them, actively--no mention of the hands and heartbeats save the urn with some unique feature.
T saw small writing as a symptom of restriction, I think, and of too much mind-noise, which I have yet to witness in myself or anyone else as something entirely unrelated to self hatred. He was right with me. Museums can reminders of how long people have been wearing makeup (12th century celadon pots!)
And if one can be dated, it's more valuable. If it can be rooted in the time of the hearts and hands that are then ignored. I know its supposed to be a waterfall but it looks like paper. A forest of signs and their perception, is all. The atoms of the artist that no longer occupy the space around a piece.
"and at the beginning of the Ming--"--in the late 1800 presenting his painting to the king. Plase select the work of art you would like to appreciate. Kang Ik-Joong, I Have To Learn English. Moon beam Slow, Same #9. Nam-June Paik My Faust Autopiography.
Encourages viewers feel the sublimity of the universe with sequin swirls
Viewers feel the difference when they know the artist killed himself