Aridity

Desire flows on and on in the flood of time.

And space, like grit in a shoe, keeps reminding me — on riverbanks where all sounds fall silent, on snowfields where the cold wind howls. Space cuts desire into small segment after small segment, utterly unrelated, yet seamlessly one whole.

The freedom to speak and to be silent, the freedom to weep and to laugh.

In this here and now where space has defeated time, freedom is neither in the body nor in the soul.

Spatial reality gradually becomes temporal reality, and then becomes the state of my spirit.

I possess only confusion, pain, failure.

----In the early hours of 2025.11.29, at Shigatse, Tibet