Silo

I realised nothing could be cleanly separated – not the day not the mood not the principle not the cause. There’s not even a binary between you and me, or anyone, but some blurred beautiful edge that touches and bleeds toward everything that steals breath and renders speechlessness. That’s the inbetween, the fissure, the ripping apart and the coming together that we fight at the borderline to untangle and to crush. The ambiguity, the penumbra, that impenetrable discolouration is the very interstitium that binds reality’s crumbly parts. To deny it forces us somewhere simple and empty, devoid of the beating heart of complexity and fibre, we lie at the opposing ends of our muddy field fighting a battle they’ll forget why we started.