During FRANK BACON's extremely prolific career, his audience was split between adulatIon and obloQuy.

Being Human is to know that most of times we don't understand a thing.
This morning a supply postman wearing the face of a Jesuit monk who has accidentally swallowed a live frog brought another “gift” from a company I’ve never heard of.

Throughout my life I have been receiving these unsolicited gifts.
They brought me Faith wrapped up like a parcel and borne on someone else's altar. They asked me to accept it but not open it.
Then they brought me science, like a carving knife on a plate, with which I would later cut the pages of a book of blank pages.

They brought me Suspicion, like dust inside a lacquered trinket, but why they wrapped it up as a precious gift if all it contained was grey dust?
All of us, from the amoeba up, are shadows of gestures made by we know not who, causes and effects made flesh, consequences with feelings and occasional constipation.

Today I do not even know that I know nothing.
The bright white moon points out the city and its icy light shines on mystery of the world, revealing that everything is shadows with dim light in between, fake intervals, the absurd murmurs of the visible Universe.

The lone white cloud hovers above the sleepy moon as if it were moon's hideout.

That white cloud is my Cat Kingdom.

And I am still here.

I breathe, I write, I live.

~Deimantas (Daanish) S. • 2nd 1h •
Civil Servant at HM Government

JUMP to another Conclusion!

oR'I'On

curate&tipsum

Mask~Q~raiD

AMOBA-BUYDEN