What is the character of chaos? Our creation myth needs a character. Who will embody the chaos of the creative process for us?
When I return to NYC I feel my past. Why do I only feel like that when I am there? I imagine the feeling is not kept inside me but in the collective intelligence that is often called 'the spirit of the place.' Arriving evokes that spirit.
Does a similar spirit exist in the chaos that knows us all when we return?
I think the phylogons are guiding us. They seem to be organized in a new way. A tilted grid? A patterned textile? Who is coming? Can you guess? We catch the quickest glimpse - we are still in chaos, remember?
A dancing form spins through the mist; a defier of order, a time traveler, a trickster, a fool; someone who moves outside and through the cycles, an acrobat of reality: a harlequin.