I love this panel as art; I cannot explain why.
How you love a movie or a book title. A
snippet from either/inside more than the
whole of it. Unsaid as a whole. The figure’s
a microcosm. Speaking into an open box. I
love that art-side. How the two leaves are
like the hands pressing down / now lifted up
as in prayer. Although I do not pray. I no
more can. I love the idea of it. That
somebody may be listening. That we may be
thinking of something to say when we meet
each other. I talk to myself more than (I talk
to) others. I am an empty vase.
Deckard and Rachael are running into and
out of the downtown / out of and into the
new town. Which is no town with no death.
It looks like a library, but the library has a
ladder. Into the books, out of the freakshow
that is their lifespans. The librarian leaves
them alone. (The origamist). There is an
ample plain with dinosaurs. There is a space
mission. They can see heaven and its picture
window. They will live on a new planet,
they will not be extinct. When they go into
the rocket, do they ever know? They are
running into the sweet movie.