AROUND

We all end up sitting along one's table side, looking forward to the centre; one two three four of us, each with it's own side as if a border line, still we all look into a centre, a kind of 'planet for the apes';

We can make up all the faces of a simulacrum from an hiding being, still each is locked into the centre of that sitting, situation, presence, spinning dead centre, middle of that table;

One can rise, move around, go out, travel the planet, still one ultimately must 'sit' along one border of one table; you can think it circular or polygonal, as much as you wish it, still each of us sitting around that plane gets accommodated, greeted through a border line, a recognizance of a presence;

For each one of 'us' is just that, a presence, moving shadow, fractal envelope sliding into time's flow, flying through it's weaving patterns, translating itself into the now pattern, the one within which one sits, now a centre, a table.