The Earth's atmosphere shatters me into thousands of fragments, pieces of my very being crash to the surface, all uniquely divided across the globe. I recognize this has happened yet again but I have forgotten . . . something. I am in the dark. All I have left is this compulsion for light, my light, it has to be my light. I want all of my fragments back. I wander . . . I find a single bit, a tiny fragment. I collect it carefully, thoughtfully. I continue on, to wander and I find another, and another. I collect, I wander, I find, I collect, I wander, I find. Oh yes, I remember.
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
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And in the collecting, it may seem as though it
is the universe's way of realizing itself.
vesna :)
CHARLIE