(one)

In this instance, means less than it may have in the past. I must be afforded this conceit.

That I suffer Asthma is a good metaphor for the template of existing, inclusive of its remedies.
I will have come and gone. I suspect I have already left. Periods of time during which it is quite difficult to distinguish the direction of the tide, with no knowledge of the shore to comprehend whether the land is exposed or submerged. All day listening to the wrong voices, the wrong visitors. Necessity is as evil as the tide, that is to say as neutral and irrelevant.

I like it here, it’s a place I can speak aloud and not be heard.

Departure, then, remains as much a choice as it ever was. It is itself lacking about as much meaning as the systemic motions of external cultures, languages, the layered redundancies and excesses. There comes a point at which the meaning ceases to be hidden or require translating, when an instinctive recognition takes its place. It isn’t knowledge though, and shouldn’t be perceived as such. There is nothing to be known, only seen and recognised. Whether there is a meaning, that there is no meaning or that the meaning is there, is less important than recognising.

One of the more distant voices says, ‘Pattern recognition’, and I agree.

This was all the time left, before I chose to depart. I’ve become my own visitor. I am attempting to understand whether there is a prisoner, an invalid, what manner of construct contains it, through this instinctive recognition. As fine, honed and sterile as my other tools are, they are keys in an environment that requires sails for navigation, to return to the analogy of shores, tides and movement. Very good, very specific, very specifically irrelevant.