At the end of a dimly lit corridor lined with curtains, a door.
The walk is solitary but...some...thing astir?
No questions no answers no one to ask.
There is only pure attention...
What have we here?
A dimly lit corridor lined with curtains.
At the end of it, a door.
A door or adornment?
Or adoration? No not that. Not exactly.
Look, if you're going to be in this corridor put on your gloves.
Hands don't need protecting from the elements in controlled environments such as this.
Gloves have an interior and an exterior and the fabric touches both and don't forget it. Barriers protect the outside from the inside and the inside from the outside and create lines between this that and the other and taxonomies and categorical and otherness and marginalized...
Some gloves are accessories. Simple appropriate accessories.
For beholding. For the beheld.
For the bedazzled. For the bedoozled...
No gloves, holding. Gloves, be-holding. How so?
Mmm...like this: be-holding...to whom? There has to be a third!
Maybe. Maybe not.
So you're saying that there are people out there who put on gloves and eye shadow and high heels who are beholden to nobody? Creating barriers between self and others and categories for free? Adorning their bodies for nothing in return? With no expectations?
At least one...body...when they look in the mirror. But...?
But no expectations. They do it for free. It's not about the money.
That's impossible nowadays.
I know. That's why it's divine. There is no currency here.
There is only pure attention.