Saturday, August 06, 2005
This is the false wall of escape. Many colored handles for balance-keeping but no point of entry or exit except from above. For this you need rope. Knowing rope and which way to knot are the first steps to escaping any situation, be it bad or very very good. I am in a trance of rope-knowing, I have held it and, eyes closed, blindly studied its twisting rough ways with fingertip sensors. There are only certain fleeting windows of opportunity, times to escape where the ropes may assist. Danger may be below or above, depending on the day. It is tremorous and I am making a pilgrimage to enlarged chest cavities and falling red suns. The light is failing, palm sweat prevents tight grip. There is colorless gas all around, a pleasant not-too-sweet smell, a neutral green smell; I am uniforming myself to gird against the winds and waves. I will receive many scrapes and bruises on puckered yellow flesh pockets, but the vapors will come to soothe and prevent scarring.