Oh,” he thinks, “this explains everything.” The words resonate as if in the shadows of a lunar crater.

The essence of Japanese aesthetics is a concept called ‘MA’ (pronounced “maah”) — the pure, and indeed essential, void between all “things.”

“That’s how I see,” he explains, pointing to his temple. His finger dry, mangled by cold winds. In a dream, staring into the sun and pointing at it, pointing and pointing with all his might until his finger breaks into dead autumn leaves. “I see the void between things first. I see the shape of what’s not there. Then I see everything else.”

Mistaking entrapment for enlightenment. Reason for release.  The artist pretends he’s a philosopher. He moves in negative fractals, traces her void into existence through routine circuits that are both origin and conclusion, empty space imprisoned and imprisoner. 

Deep into the dirt he digs his feet and, blind, draws memories of absence.