Reverence and Blur
My image has corrupted the very same computer files that map untamed desert waste lands and orbital light shows of burning gas. There is a class of hostile dimensions that may not be reproduced by composite sketch or the stroke of a savant. They resist lens focus with revolutionary mistrust. You have never witnessed the surrender of pixilation square by square. Examine the group photo where I made a breach and sunk it to the bottom of your digital gallery that no longer retrieves. The greats always tread lightly with our faces. Any of my progenitors would have drowned Renoir in his vibrant river of dots. Draw the shade of your shop windows and twist the venetian blinds until they improve ordinary glass into mirrors. It will catch the mother, stroller, and child. It will reflect an old man walking gingerly on orthopedic shoes. Perhaps a budding jogger on a first run. A nondescript student lugging a survivalist's backpack. Then a well dressed professional of some stripe, but do not hope to find perfect consistency in the powers of your reflective surfaces. They operate by permission higher than a collection of rods and cones, Reading glasses will clarify the font of whatever periodical that tickles your literary fancy, but will not avail you of the future. Do not strive for sight beyond sight. Blind spots are a Godsend within optical design. The wisest of all sighted creatures know when to blink, when to avert a gaze, and even when to give up on a direction all together for sake of sledgehammers. Reality can break, and not alone by accidental pressures. Mind your eyes. Keep them where they ought to fall, and you will be granted the sweet continuance of a daily life that is comprehensible. A child believes extracting honey is simply a matter of finding an aperture in the hive upon which to fasten his lips. He will breath in a swarm for presumptions of the half known. It only takes one moment of visual indescretion to unwrite peace. Bye and by, you will marry into our line of undetectables to quell a perpetual itch of curiosity. So be it. Become as we are, a shimmering almost, but not quite.
