The walls, the stone floor, the sharp edges of shadow, everything here invites the pilgrim to wait: there is no rush.
This is an antechamber, a place for the soul to reflect, for the mind to accept.
The journey may take a day, or a year, or a thousand years, at the end, time no longer flows: it is just now, forever.
If you have come thus far, friend, leave behind any doubt you may have: in front of you, in these long corridors, is infinity.
From the exquisite crew
We look out on the street, the scenery of everyday, ever changing, never fading. Autumn is there, palpable, in the leaves blown across the sidewalks, in the colours of the trees, in the chill in the air. Slowly, implacably, the city changes to its winter clothes.
You and I are waiting, loving, reading, light jazz floating through the rooms. Soon the chill will turn to ice, us too will wear our winter coats.
We love the city, we will never stop waiting.
Image: Glas und Metal, Berlin , September 2016 – via jasminmeyer
In memory of Arthur C. Clarke (The Sentinel)
When they saw you, they knew, as if eons of time had collapsed into this instant: the smooth surface, the faint light absorbed, the silence.
Space was unforgiving, and you had waited such a long time, in the absolute solitude of the desolated moon.
But now you are awaking, at your feet the small ants look up at you in awe, at the unstoppable thrust, at the slowly revealed mystery.
Rocks fall around you, and you are still, just the apex of this marvel:
A billion year-old artificial satellite.