Lately, I have consciously become interested in my own creativity, which is interesting.
I am fascinated by intermediate states.
Not the strike, but the aftermath. Not the words, but the pause, the meanings between words, the suspended poetry in hanging silence of lovers.
Not the arrival of the train, but its tantalizing anticipation. Not the rain, but the puddles. Not the lightning, but the reflection.
Reflections in windows, shop windows capturing all the urban reflections. Not the advertisements, but the fragments of text on former billboards.
Not black or white, but the sea of gray within.
Expectations.
Transitions.
Bright flashes are unfamiliar to me; I love transitions. Not fixed states, but intermediate ones. Not a bright day or a deep night, but twilight, those states where you can't precisely say what or where. I am struck and inspired by the constant elusiveness, the fluidity of everything. Not the sound, the attack, the splash, but the lingering resonance.
In my childhood, I loved resting my head on the piano and listening for hours to the fading strings. It was so elusive, poignant, extraordinarily profound to the core of my soul.
Decadence? Calmness, tranquility? No. Just intermediate states - the time of dawn, the time before sunset, when the birds quiet down and the Sun sinks into the dark tomorrow.
If I were a fish, I would swim in a small branch connecting the ocean with a turbulent current of ebb and flow, with the sound of sand, engines, the cries of jellyfish, dolphins, sharks, and the deafening dark corner of complete silence and isolation without any movement of water. In that centimeter where the water barely moves from a raging stream to complete stillness. Neither this nor that is familiar to me.
There is an element in the system that balances both extremes. That's where I live.