Some places come into being only for those who have longed for them.
Before they can be reached,
they must be imagined.
they must be imagined.
Two figures move through the same landscape,
yet along divergent paths —
drawn by something neither can see,
something not yet given a form.
yet along divergent paths —
drawn by something neither can see,
something not yet given a form.
They wander.
They approach.
They pass through the same spaces without ever occupying the same world.
They approach.
They pass through the same spaces without ever occupying the same world.
Until they see one another.
Then the ground is no longer enough.
To meet, they must rise.
To remain together, they must cross a threshold
between what they are
and what they might become.
To remain together, they must cross a threshold
between what they are
and what they might become.
The transformation begins there.
Their bodies change.
Their proportions shift.
The familiar becomes other.
Their proportions shift.
The familiar becomes other.
And, with them, the landscape enters another state.
Water, mountains, veils, horses, impossible distances —
the real begins to acquire the logic of desire.
the real begins to acquire the logic of desire.
For a brief interval,
they inhabit a world that could not exist without them.
they inhabit a world that could not exist without them.
Perhaps they have found it.
Perhaps they have made it.
Perhaps they have made it.
But desire is not a territory one can possess.
Such places belong to no one.
They exist only as long as they are desired.
They exist only as long as they are desired.
And eventually, they disappear.
What remains is the landscape —
altered only by the memory of what was possible there.
altered only by the memory of what was possible there.
The paths diverge again.
And somewhere,
another longing begins.
another longing begins.
